


Nach Dir Kommt Nichts

by Reentjeh



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Boys In Love, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Can you call it a slow burn if they don't kiss?, M/M, Peggy Carter has alzheimer, Rumlow isn't a nice guy, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Slow Burn, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Steve Rogers is REALLY angry, bucky barnes has no memory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 01:15:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18063779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reentjeh/pseuds/Reentjeh
Summary: After Steve wakes up from the ice, the world is a whole lot different from what he rememebers. He is having a hard time accepting the years he missed, finding his place in this new world and making a life for himself again.We meet up with him when SHIELD gives him a gift from his past. This gift forces Steve to open up his heart and start accepting feelings he has been hiding from all his life.In short Steve is angry. Very angry.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> \- I’ve tried to follow the course of the movie, but then decided that it wouldn’t work and so it doesn’t follow the movies one bit. In this Alternate Universe Steve gets a lot of time to adjust to his new situation and Peggy is in New York to help him with that.
> 
> \- I did a little crossover with Star Trek – The next generation by introducing Deanna Troi. Only I named her Riker, cause I ship Deanna and Will till the end of time. Or the galaxy, whichever way you like.
> 
> \- The lyrics that keep reoccurring in some of the chapters are from this song: Nach dir kommt nichts – Tokio Hotel. Also this is the disclaimer stating I do not own these lyrics and merely used them as a guideline for the story. The song is the sole purpose of this story's existence.
> 
> \- I'd like to take a moment to thank my sis for Beta'ing this. And also sticking with the story when I had no intention of finishing it and making me finish it anyway. It's been a journey and I loved having you along for the ride <3
> 
> Any and all mistakes that are left, whether small or big, are solely my own fault.

_Prologue_

They never warn you about what war will do to you. They let you believe you are serving a greater cause, and some more than others are willing to die for that cause. I always thought of myself as one who would die for a greater good.

I never believed that I would actually die, but it made the fight a whole lot easier. The one person I was trying to save was not me but someone else. If I died then the world would go on, if he went…. Well, I didn’t really know what would happen then. But I found out nonetheless.

Back to the warnings I was talking about. If they had warned me that being frozen wouldn’t in fact kill me but keep me preserved for later years, I might have made a different choice back then. Because waking up almost seventy years later is definitely not something I was prepared for. Nor something I had bargained for either.

Waking up isn’t so hard, you just stop sleeping. Feeling exhausted and like you haven’t slept in a million years, hearing radio that’s not quite right. I still don’t understand that after almost seventy(!) years they still managed to get the timing of a radio sequence wrong. With all that technology lying around, couldn’t they just put on a report of us winning the war?

Well, even if they thought that it might not work, it doesn’t really matter since I’m already awake now. I can’t believe that having slept all this time would make me this angry. Or maybe it was just the waking up part that got me so mad.

It’s pretty damn hard to start your life all over again after having slept for so long. The world has changed so much in the meantime. I feel like I’m stuck in this weird dream and can’t get out, like I haven’t woken up at all.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter one_

**Meine beste Sünde, geht durch die Tür.**  
**Ich bin schwerverletzt, und süchtig nach ihn.**  
**Ich fühl' mich.**  
**Besessen, und verloren.**  
**Vergessen, wie nie geboren.**  
**Zerfetz dein Tagebuch.**  
**Ich find' mich nicht, auch wenn ich such denn.**

I glance back one last time towards the bed, she has already closed her eyes.

“Bye Peggy.” I whisper softly, not expecting an answer.

“Bye!” She doesn’t open her eyes to look at me. Probably just a habit to respond to anyone saying that whilst leaving. She’s having trouble with her memories these days. It’s worse than when I first found her.

She remembered clear as day when they brought me to her for the first time. Started crying, saying how long she’d missed me. We talked that day about the war and unimportant stuff that I missed in my years in the ice.

When I came back the next day, she remembered me from the day before. The nurses told me it was rare she remembered anything from earlier. “Be sure not to count on it the next time you visit. She’s having a good couple of days now, but they can be over before you know it.”

Of course, the next time I came she’d forgotten me and started crying all over again. Now it’s a matter of hours before she forgets me again. Usually if I stay the entire afternoon, she lapses during her half hour nap and we start the conversation all over again when she wakes.

On the way to my bike I get a call from Nick Fury.

“You in town?”

“Sure, where else would I go?”

“Explore the world Cap! It’s changed a lot since you last saw it.”

“Been doing just fine without it actually.”

“Listen, could you drop by? We have recovered something from the archives for you. I think you would like to see this.”

“Sure, I’m on my way.”

 

I make my way through the buildings garage. The first time I came to this place, I had to go through the front door. It was an interesting experience to say the least. Being welcomed as a national war hero when you’ve slept through the victory is beyond weird.

The garage has an elevator that brings me straight to Fury’s floor. Very convenient if you like avoiding people. I’ve never been the kind to avoid them, but in here? I’m not sure yet what I want and people around here are always asking. When will I be getting back on duty?

Getting back into the field is unavoidable, but when is the only thing I can control. So, for now, I’ll just be rediscovering the world at my own pace. I step out of the elevator directly into Nick’s office.

“Cap! Nice to see you again. How’ve you been doing?” Fury meets me halfway his office to shake my hand.

“Fine, just taking it one step at a time I guess.”

“Are you adjusting to your environment?”

“It’s been growing on me.” Nick has a way of knowing when to stop asking questions. He returns back to his desk to retrieve something that is lying on top of it.

“You mind sitting down? I’ve got something I want to share with you.” I take a seat at one of the couches and Nick sits down opposite me. He’s holding a roughed-up book, it looks old and is ragged with fading yellow pages. He puts it down on the table between us.

“What I have here is a journal. It’s a really old one, some seventy years of age.” I look up at him. Is this from the war?

“It was found amongst the possessions of one of our soldiers who had passed away. We had been holding on to it until the end of the war. As we always do with the belongings of fallen soldiers.” This doesn’t come as a surprise. In hope that some might have been held hostage, their belongings were kept. When all hope was lost that the soldier would come back, they would send it to their next of kin. Or when everybody went home at the end of the war, their stuff would return home too.

“This particular journal was sent to the writers’ sister. But to our surprise, she returned it to us immediately. Stating that she didn’t want to hold on to things from the past. Her brother was a part of said past and she wanted to move forward.”

“Right, but what does this have to do with me?” I interrupt Nick.

“You are stated as the soldiers next of kin.”

 “What?” I startle back in response. Rising up I start pacing around the room. Just a few times up and down after I regain my seat opposite Fury. “What?!”

“This is the journal of sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. He listed you, alongside his sister as his next of kin.”

Bucky?

My hands have started shaking on their own accord. I rub them together and then instinctively lay my head in them. What is going on here? How is this even possible?

“I never… I never knew Buck kept a diary?”

“It’s not so much a diary as a journal. We’ve retrieved quite a lot of journals during the war. It wasn’t uncommon for soldiers to write about their stay abroad.”

“You make it sound like a holiday. It wasn’t like that, it was war!”

“Listen Cap, I notice this is making you more upset then I anticipated. If you want, I can take this back to the archive and you can retrieve it when you feel like it.”

I shoot an apologetic smile towards Fury. I don’t know why I got mad at him, I’m just not feeling at all like myself at the moment.

“It’s for me?”

“Yes, if you want it. Sergeant Barnes is officially acknowledged as a national hero, but we feel like his journal is something private. It was meant for you as his next of kin, and so you may have it.”

“And if I don’t want it?”

“Like I said, then it will go back into the national archive.” He looks at me patiently. “If you want to return it at some point in time, it will go back there as well. It’s your decision.”

“Just one question. Why now?”

“We felt it had been long enough. You’ve had some time to adjust to your new environment, yet you still refuse to come back into active duty.” I can feel him looking at me while I stare at the journal on the table. Does he really think reading Buck’s diary will help me get back on my feet? I fail to see how opening up a wound like that will get me excited to get back to work.

“But like I said, I didn’t expect you to take it this hard. I thought you had made peace with the passing of your friend.”

“Well…. Clearly I haven’t.” I can feel rage building up in my chest, so I rise again and start pacing through the room.

“Listen, I’m not the one you should be talking about this with. You’ve met our counselor?” Fury asks.

“Yeah, I’ve been having weekly sessions with her.”

“Are they helping?”

“There wasn’t really anything to help with before.” There is a pause in our conversation. Nick looks lost in thought while I keep pacing up and down his room. Maybe actually talking to the woman might help next time.

I don’t like to open up to complete strangers. Whether it’s their job or not. But to be honest, I wasn’t really feeling anything either, these couple of months since I’ve been out of the ice. Things just move on as they go, life goes on and I adapt to the new things. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to talk about. She mentioned going back into the field might be a good idea, it would give me something new to focus on.

“She recommended this, didn’t she?”

“She told me that you weren’t making any progress. This might give you the push we we’re looking for.”

“Ever thought that I didn’t want any push in the first place?!” Still so damn angry, I can’t remember ever being this angry!

“Again, not something I’m here for to discuss with you. Would you like the journal?”

I hesitate. I don’t know whether I want to open up this wound again, but I’ve missed Bucky for so long already. To have a part of him, lying here on the table, waiting for me to read it….

“Yes, I do.” Nick stands up and hands me the journal.

“Then take it with you. Read it, or don’t read it. When you’re done with it you can bring it directly to the archive, they’ll know what to do with it.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Don’t forget to go to Deanna and talk about this. We value your presence here and we want what’s best for you.”

“Yeah, not just cause I’m a good fighter, huh?” Nick huffs out a laugh and returns to his desk. I go back to the elevator and my bike. The journal safely in my pocket.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Two_

Returning home, I place the journal on the dining table. I make myself a cup of coffee and grab a sandwich from the fridge. I try to eat but I seem to have lost all appetite. Maybe some tv?

After switching through channels for a half hour my coffee has gone cold, I still haven’t eaten and that damned journal is still lying there. So, I build up the courage and sit my ass down at the table, journal in front of me.

The cover is a nice dark brown leather. It’s worn and cracking but you can see it was a good quality seventy years ago. I open it and look at the first page. There is nothing written here, only on the inside of the cover it says:

_Sergeant Barnes_

I don’t recognize the handwriting. The page has turned yellow and the edges are curling up. My hand is shaking when I turn over the first page. I’m met with a familiar handwriting, an obvious scribbling that I would recognize anywhere. I didn’t think I’d remember his handwriting, but I’m sure now that this is his journal.

_~~Should I wright these as letters? Maybe I should?~~ _

_Dear journal,_

_~~God, this is so corny. Can’t I just write stuff down? It’s not like anybody is ever gonna read this beside myself?~~ _

I stop reading right there. It’s obvious that when Bucky started writing this, he didn’t plan on writing much. Yet he has filled about half the book.

I don’t know if I’m supposed to be reading this? How can I without invading his privacy, even if he’s not here anymore? I close the book and shove it to the other end of the table. Why would anyone want this? Even after so many years I’m still thinking about how Bucky would feel if I read his journal. It’s something private! Something he wrote just for himself, not something he would want me to read!

Besides, if he had wanted me to read it, I would have done so during the war! Obviously, he started writing this when he was first shipped off to Europe. I was still here but I served with him later. Wouldn’t he have told me about this then?

I don’t think he ever had any intention of letting me read this, next of kin or not. He probably wanted me to have other stuff to remember him by, not this. Not his feelings, written down on a page of a book I didn’t know existed.

I put the diary away safely. Maybe one day I will get to it, but just not yet.

 

“Have you read the diary, Steve?” Deanna Riker, counselor of SHIELD, looks directly at me while she asks the question. She usually looks directly at me while asking things, like she’s trying to read my reaction rather than hear me answer.

“I’ve read the first couple of sentences. After that I put it away.”

“Why?” She smiles at me, she probably already knows the answer.

“I feel like I’m violating Buck’s privacy by reading this. It was never meant to be read, by me or anybody else. I don’t want to hurt his feelings by betraying his trust.”

“You do know that sergeant Barnes isn’t going to hold any of these actions against you anymore?”

“We were best friends when he was still alive. If he would’ve wanted me to know about this journal, he would have told me back then.”

“Don’t you think he didn’t tell you because he didn’t think of it as important? From what I understood, many soldiers kept a journal. He probably expected you to have one as well.”

“But I didn’t.” Deanna doesn’t reply, instead grabs a stack of papers and starts sifting through them. She picks one out and starts to read it.

“From what I know, not every soldier kept a diary. They all got the advice to write down their feelings. Get the heavy burden of things down on paper so it wouldn’t distract them in the field.”

“They really thought that would help?”

“For some it did! Don’t underestimate the power of writing, Steve. For some it’s a way of accepting what happened and moving forward. But understand that it was just an advice, not every soldier felt the need to keep a journal. You may not have been given the choice, but if you were, would you have kept a journal?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so, if I would’ve kept a journal it would probably be littered with drawings instead of letters.”

“When’s the last time you’ve drawn?”

“Not in a long while.”

 

Usually after meetings with Deanna I visit Peggy. It’s helps to clear up my mind to talk to someone who, for the most time, is living in the past. One that I slept through, but nonetheless. Peggy is really nice to talk to when you want some peace of mind. However, I don’t think she can help me this time, so I decide to go for a ride through town.

Traffic is the worst, so I wind up back home pretty soon. I make myself some dinner and sit down at the table with a stack of papers and a few new pencils. Deanna advised me to make some drawings and bring them next week. There’ll probably be some deeper meaning to them, but I don’t see it.

There’s a lot of stuff in my apartment that I never would’ve chosen. Decorative paintings, figurines, candlelight’s. The interior decorator really upped her game when she came to do this apartment. It’s supposed to be neutral and give you a warm and home-like feeling. I guess home-like for me is almost seventy years ago, when you only had the necessary stuff and nothing else. There was no money to decorate back then.

At least now it gives me enough stuff to draw without having to leave the building. I start with the fruit-bowl on the table, that shouldn’t be too hard.

Some ten pages later and I think I finally got it right. Who would’ve guessed your technique fades when you don’t draw often? Well, at least I’m finally happy with the way the apples and pears are looking. I put the drawing in a hardcover map, that’s at least one to show. What’s next?

 

“They look really good, Steve. But why didn’t you draw anything near to your heart?” I puff out a big sigh, why am I here again?

“You already know this answer.”

“Humor me.” The drawings disappear into the folder with other papers involving me. It says so clearly on the front: Steven Grant Rogers.

“I don’t have anything near to my heart anymore.”

“And how about sergeant Barnes? Isn’t he near to your heart? He’s right in your bookcase at home, waiting to share his memories with you.”

“Memories he never intended for me to read. And I’m not drawing him from my own memories. They can never do him justice.”

“How about Peggy.” I know she’s trying to hide the fact that I finely said something sufficient. She heard it and saw it too. Probably going to hear about this later, I’ve known Deanna quite some time now. She never grabs you directly when you offer something to her. She takes it and processes it and after a while, could be an hour, could be a week, she’ll all of a sudden bring it back up. Always when you’re not ready for it. She’s really clever in those things.

“I don’t want to draw Peggy as she is now. She’s beautiful, but she doesn’t remember herself as being like she is now. I cannot draw the Peggy of twenty-five years ago, ‘cause I wasn’t around then. That’s who she thinks she is, and when I draw her like she is now I’m hurting her feelings. I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Don’t you think you are hurting yourself by thinking this? Peggy has her good days, she knows her own age. You can draw her and ask her if she wants to see it. You cripple yourself into thinking you’re always hurting someone else, you’re not. You are only hurting yourself by thinking less of the people around you.”

 

“Hey Pegs, you remember Bucky?”

“Sergeant Barnes? Sure, he served with you right?” I blink several times and softly touch her hand.

“Yeah, he did. You remember he was my buddy from back before the war?”

“Oh yeah, that’s right! I remember you charging off when he got captured. Good thing you brought yourself and all those soldiers back home too. Don’t know if we would’ve ever won the war without you.” She looks so clear and happy while telling me this. I’ve been asking her about Bucky for the past two weeks, this is the first time she remembers him.

“Did you know he kept a journal?”

“I’m sure he did. It was something we expected, a lot of the guys kept one.”

“But Pegs, they never told me about this?”

“Well honey, your way to the battlefield was not how it usually went! Normally, the week before a soldier got shipped out, they were allowed to have a few days at home. Before they were sent home, they got a briefing about what to expect and an explanation about the journal. It gave them time to get a journal and maybe already get used to the idea of writing in it before they were shipped off to battle.”

“I never got my time at home before I went to battle.”

“No, because you chose to go, Steve. We didn’t want you fighting that war, so we never thought to give you the same briefing as the other soldiers got.”

“They gave me his journal, you know. Few weeks back.”

“Have you read it?”

“No…”

“Steve, you shouldn’t be afraid to read it. Although the diary was meant as a way for soldiers to express their feelings, most of them wrote about other stuff. It wasn’t like you guys to think or talk, or even write about your feelings. So not surprisingly almost no one ever did. We had hoped it would help them get through the war in better mental health. It was technically only an experiment. It never hurt them but it didn’t help a lot of them either. You guys were just not made to open up, apparently.”

“You say that like you’ve read the journals?”

“During the war and shortly after, the journals of fallen soldiers were supposed to be given back to their next of kin. We had to make an assessment about what was written in them, if they contained any information that wasn’t meant for the public. Among those journals was also sergeant Barnes’.”

“You read it?!”

“I read the first page and decided it was not worth the time. Your friend didn’t write about his feelings, just like the others didn’t. Besides that, he was an excellent soldier. One that would never compromise a mission by writing about it in a journal he kept with him. I made a judgement call to send it to his sister without fully having read it.”

“But she never read it either.” It takes a moment before Peggy responses.

“Huh? Who read what, dear?” I look up and meet a transparent gaze in her eyes. Her clear time has passed, and I’m probably one of the nurses to her at this point.

“It’s time for your nap, Peggy. You ready to get some sleep?”

“Hmmm, yes. I’m quite tired actually.”

“You get nice and comfortable and sleep for a little while. We’ll wake you up in time for supper.” I squeeze her hand and watch her as she closes her eyes. Hopefully I’ll get one of these days again. It’s nice to talk to her when she remembers, just like old times.

 

I never thought it would help to talk to Peggy, but it did. Knowing she had the courage to read it makes me feel better about starting in it. If I only read the first entry, at least I’ve given it a try. Nothing more than Pegs has read. She told me that it wouldn’t be anything big, I can do this.

Surely, I can do this?

_~~Should I write these as letters? Maybe I should?~~ _

_Dear journal,_

_~~God, this is so corny. Can’t I just write stuff down? It’s not like anybody is ever gonna read this beside myself?~~ _

_It has been brought to my attention at base camp, before we were shipped off to Europe, that it would be wise to keep a journal. They told me that it would give me a clear head in the field, if I had written all my feelings down. Like I wouldn’t get caught up in some emotional shit while gutting some Nazi.  
I doubt it will happen, but here goes nothing anyway._

_He told me, the physician who evaluated our mental health to clear us for duty, that it would be best to write all my feelings down. Circumstances wouldn’t be necessary, only the feelings will do. So stuff like: “I feel bad today.” Would be enough._  
I double checked this, he said it was fine.  
I told him I didn’t think it would work. He then replied with this: “Maybe you should take along a bigger journal then, cause if you’re going to write everything down, better make a book of it instead.”

_I think he just wanted to get rid of me, to be honest._

_So here I am, a week before I’m being shipped out, writing a journal. I got one week left in our home in Brooklyn. Want to know how I feel about this? How about, it sucks? I have a feeling you’re going to get yourself in trouble without me, cause that’s kind of what you do. And I’m not going to be here to save you next time. Cause that’s kind of what I do, you know? Damn this, I really haven’t thought this through, the shipping off to war and all that. What does trying to be a hero across the world even matter when you’re out here getting yourself killed?_

Ok. So maybe I did read a bit more then what Peggy read. Cause he took up three pages with all his scribbling and Pegs only read the first. I’ve put the diary down in front of me on the table. It’s laying open with the last paragraph staring at me.

It’s so like Buck to put himself in front of me. I know that he’s talking about the skinny guy I used to be, but I was pretty capable of handling myself back then. Just as I’m handling myself just fine these days.

I remember him being off those last days. I never saw the diary, although he obviously already had it back then. He wasn’t at all like himself when he came back from base training. I remember shouting at him, the day before he left.

“I don’t know what happened to you at that training, but you’re not yourself anymore!”

“Why Steve? Cause I’m not gone eight hours a day, working my butt off for a little food and water? You just can’t bear it that I’m home all of a sudden, watching your every damn move! Well, if you don’t like it, suits me just fine! I’ll be gone by tomorrow anyway!”

It was a nasty shout out we had. Luckily Buck came ‘round that night and apologized. I didn’t have the guts to say that I was sorry for being such a dick. I’m sure he knew though.

**Nach dir kommt nichts,**   
**Unsern ersten Tag verfluch' ich.**   
**Nach dir kommt nichts,**   
**Alles Neue macht mich fertig.**   
**Nach dir kommt nichts, ich will das nicht.**   
**Du bist und warst und wirst nie wieder alles sein.**


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Three_

_Dear journal,_

_So much for my awesome goodbye. I’m already in Europe, at camp trying to get used to this weather. I keep repeating our goodbye in my head. I kept trying to say important stuff like: “Keep yourself safe!” “Maybe you can come visit me when I come back as a big hero in a few months?” “You’ll write me, right?”_

_But all that came out was: “Don’t do anything stupid until I get back!”_

_God, you must really hate me right now. You know what it is? I just can’t get this last image out of my head. Cause you looked really heartbroken that I was leaving. Or at least I think it was because I was leaving? You’ve been talking about wanting to participate in the war, and that you think it’s unfair that I got to go but you didn’t. Maybe if you weren’t so skinny you’d be here with me._

Peggy has had a relapse this weekend. She’s cursing and yelling at every single nurse that enters her room. They called me as a last resort. “Maybe seeing you will calm her down? You’re a figure from her past, right?”

“Yeah, but I doubt I can help. I only knew her for a few years during the war.”

“Well, we think she’s stuck with her memory just after the war. We hope that seeing a familiar face from that era might help? I’m sorry to put it this blunt sir, but since you haven’t changed a bit it might calm her down.”

Well, if you put it like that. “Never thought that being frozen for so long would come in handy one day.”

“So, you’ll come?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

When I arrive at her floor, I can hear her screaming from across the hall.

“Jeez Peg, why’re you screaming so loud?” I barge through the door without bothering to notify any of the nurses. They’ll know as soon as they come to check on her. From the noise she was making I’d flee the building too.

“Steve?” She’s in tears, sobbing on her blanket.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I thought… I thought you were…!”

“They found me while you were sleeping. I’m here now, you can calm down now.” She doesn’t believe me, I can see it. Nevertheless, I take my place next to her and put my arms around her. “Cuddle with me, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” I kiss her head and stroke her hair while she starts crying again. At least she’s not screaming anymore.

By the time the nurses come to check on us she’s vast asleep.

“She was very tired, out like a light in a few minutes.”

“Would you mind staying here for a little while? Usually when she has slept her memory gets better, but we won’t know until she wakes up.”

“Let her sleep, I’ll be here when she wakes. I’ll notify you when I leave or anything changes.”

“Would you like some dinner? We’ve prepared an extra plate.”

 

It’s past midnight when she wakes up again. I shush her before she starts screaming again.

“Would you like anything to eat or drink? You slept through most of the day, so I’m afraid your rhythm will be off for a few days.”

“You’ve been here all this time?”

“Of course. Couldn’t leave my best girl all alone for the night.”

“Oh Steve!” She smiles a little and nods towards the biscuits they left for her. I hand them over before getting some juice, and a coffee for myself.

Upon my return she’s up and about through the room.

“My legs are a bit sore from lying all this time. You mind if we go for a little stroll?”

“Sure, drink some juice first. I’ll finish my coffee and then we can go for a walk.” She sits down at the table and drinks slowly. I’m still a little unclear about which Peggy I have in front of me, but I suppress the urge to ask. Better not upset her again.

She leans heavily on my arm while we’re strolling through the corridors, making our way across the building. I know that there’s a small “living area” at the other end, so I steer us towards that. “You mind if we rest here for a little while?” I ask her once we reach it. It’s dimly lit, but offers a beautiful view of the city.

“I’m not tired yet, but if you want to sit down, we will.” I laugh a little, she’s not tired cause I’ve been carrying all her weight the entire stroll. Doesn’t matter though, I’d be happy to carry her if need be. She’s light as a feather these days.

“Can I get you anything while we sit here, enjoying the view?”

I grab some tea for us both and we drink in silence.

“What do you think I should do?” I ask her.

“About what?” We’ve been sitting for over half an hour now, just staring out the window. I should be getting her back to bed, but Peggy doesn’t seem tired at all.

“They want me to get back to work. I don’t know what they have in store for me, but I don’t know if I’m ready to get back into the fight yet.” It’s easy confessing this to her.

“Why wouldn’t you want to get back into the fight? You were always the one who tried to stop the bullies, if I remember correctly? Isn’t that something you still want to do?” She replies swiftly.

“Of course, I want to do what is right. It almost feels like I’m programmed to do only that.”

“The serum never programmed you, Steve. It just enhanced everything, which means that your sense of doing the right thing has gotten bigger too.” Leave it to Peggy to state the obvious.

“Could it also mean that my feeling of dread has gotten bigger too?”

“No, that’s just the nerves talking. Why are you so afraid to get back? The world hasn’t changed, only you have.” I look her in the eye and wonder what year she’s living in. It feels like the entire world has changed except me. “You don’t understand what I’m saying?” She asks.

“It feels like the exact opposite to me.” I reply.

“The world is still the same, trust me. We still have the same issues keeping our minds busy. We still work for a living, we’re still at war with someone. Some things never change, Steve. It is just a matter of perspective.” She smiles reassuringly and takes my hand in-between hers. “I’m ready to go to bed now.”

“You want me to carry you?” She decides it’s better to walk, so we slowly move back to her room. I tuck her in and kiss her head.

“I’ll come and visit you later this week. You sleep tight.” She’s already closed her eyes and only smiles a little bit. I squeeze her hand and get a minor response, out like a light.

 

_Dear journal,_

_We’ve just had our first mission across enemy lines. I had forgotten to take you with me, which means that the past two weeks are not yet accounted for. I’m not going to bother you with all the details of my actions, cause the doctor said I just had to note my feelings._

_We both know I wouldn’t do that, right? Well, let me just begin here._

_First of all, my legs hurt. I cannot remember ever having to walk this much over rough terrain. Mostly because there is no such thing as ‘rough terrain’ in Brooklyn. Even at base training you get to walk across nicely paved routes. How wrong were they!  
Jeez, it’s like roads don’t even exist here? All I’ve been doing is pushing my way through stingy bushes and muddy grounds._

_I swear, if you ever get a chance to see me again, you will envy my legs! Cause they are going to be a marvelous piece of muscle after all this. They can’t even be allowed to call it walking here, it’s more like crawling, stumbling and running all at the same time._

_Did I mention the muddy grounds? Yeah, they stick to your boots! And if you thought that after one layer of mud it stops sticking? I got a surprise for you, it doesn’t! It just sticks and sticks and sticks. It’s a little bit like snow, only no fun at all.  
Like I said: My legs are killing me._

Maybe it would do me some good to at least start working out again. I’ve been refusing to go to any gym since they defrosted me. It feels like the first step to getting back into duty, and I’m afraid to even think in that direction. I’ll just start jogging every morning, it’s a first step at least.

Deanna thought it be a good idea to start with a personal trainer. “Then you’ll have somebody that will push you to your limits. I know you don’t want to, but your body is made to perform. A personal trainer will help you get back in shape. Didn’t you used to love working out?”

“Why would it help me get back in shape? I’m just fine as is.”

“Steve, if you were fine you wouldn’t be keeping me company. I’m not saying your insane, but this isn’t how you used to be. We’re trying to get you back to your old self again.”

“I don’t want to be my old self again. He wouldn’t fit in this world anyway. Why on earth would they want me in active duty again, anyway? It’s not like Iron Man can’t save the world all on his own.”

“Shoving the problem up someone else’s ass is not one of your trademarks, sir.” I look at Deanna. It’s not her fault I’m still stuffed with so much anger about everything. Maybe the jogging will help with that too, right?

“How’s the reading going?”

“Slowly. I’ve read the third entry this morning.”

“Would you like to talk about it? What it said, how he describes things.”

“He wrote them like letters. It’s like he’s writing to someone, but not specifically the diary itself. Like he’s writing to someone back home.”

“You know who it is?”

“I think it’s me, but I can’t be sure. He didn’t write any names.”

“Would you like me to help you analyze it? Explain what he could’ve meant with the things he wrote?”

“No, it’s fine. I’m not trying to dissect them, they’re more like pictures. They remind me of the Bucky I knew from before the war.”

 

The next morning, I wake up at dawn and start my run. It’s an hour later when I return, barely tired from the exercise. Figured that the serum wouldn’t need me to keep my body in shape. Seems to be regenerating all on its own.

It was nice to clear my head. The running gave me something to focus on, without any distractions. Just the wind gushing past my ears, people to pass on the streets, trees silently moving in the wind, water running down some stones in the river, birds chirping above my head. I try to keep my breathing in a steady rhythm.

In-Out-In-Out

“Watch out kid!”

In-Out-In-Out

“Meeeoowwww.” A cat in the distance, probably trying to get his owners to open the door or something.

In-Out-In-Out

I wonder if Buck would’ve kept up jogging if he hadn’t been killed in the war…

I forget to watch were I put my feet and lose my grip on a slippery piece of asphalt. I smack down hard against the ground, using my hands to break my fall. “Ughhh.” Well, that was just stupid.

I sit down on my knees and evaluate the damage on my hands, nothing too serious.

“Are you alright man? You went down pretty hard.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just some scratches, nothing serious.”

“You think you can stand up on your own?”

“Yeah, it’ll be ok. Thanks for asking.” The guy waits anyway ‘till I’m back on my feet. It’s a handsome looking man, also in running-gear. I offer my hand since he’s still looking at me.

“I’m Steve.”

“Hi Steve, nice to meet you. I’m Sam, you sure you’re going to be ok? Like I said, it was a pretty hard fall.”

“Yeah, I can take a hit or two. Would you mind running with me for a while, though? I would actually like the company.”

“Sure, where you heading?”

“Anywhere?” Sam shrugs in response and starts running, I trail after him. His pace is steady, but slower than what I’m used to. I concentrate on keeping my pace equal to his and almost miss his question.

“Hey Steve? Usually when I jog with someone, they use the time to chit-chat a bit. You’re not that kind of a jogger?”

“To be honest, it’s been a while since I’ve jogged with anyone. So, whatever you’re up for, I’m good.”

“You from around here?”

“Jep, moved back here a few months ago.”

“How come this is the first time I’ve seen you jogging here?”

“This your usual spot or something? This morning is the first time in ages I’ve started running again.”

“You could call it my usual spot, ever since I came back from duty I’ve been jogging every morning. Helps to clear my head after a rough night. You get to know the regulars pretty quickly when you’re running here every morning.”

“Right, you’ll probably see me around more often then. Plan on doing this every morning, from now on.”

“Well man, if you ever want any company you know my route. This is my exit, so maybe ‘till next time.”

“Yeah, thanks for the run!”


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter Four_

The jogging gives my days a more natural rhythm. I’d forgotten how nice it is to wake up at the crack of dawn. Loosening my muscles and keeping myself warm in the cold morning. I try to keep my mind focused so I won’t fall on my face again. A week in and I haven’t hit the curb other than with my feet.

Deanna is, of course, beyond pleased with accomplishing anything at all. She’s hoping I’ll pick up training at SHIELD now too. It’ll give me a chance to meet up with the guys I’ll be working with later in the field.

I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to at least meet the guys. Deanna arranges a meeting with Fury to talk it all through, in hopes he can give me more insight as to what’s about to come.

“Glad to hear you’re planning on getting back, Cap.”

“I’m not getting back yet. I would just like to get to know the people I might be going to work with. Maybe train with a few to get the hang of it again.”

“Well, I’ve arranged for you to meet up with agent Rumlow. He is the one you’ll be working with on assignments when the time comes. Of course, there are more people. But we think starting up with one is enough for now.”

“Whatever you say.” I’m starting to regret this already. “Just don’t expect me to be operational in a week or something like that. I’m seriously not up to working in the field yet.”

“You’re in charge of your training, Cap. When you say you’re ready for the next step, then with confirmation from Deanna we’ll go ahead and arrange something new for you to sink your teeth into. Until that time we would be thrilled if you would like to work with Rumlow once a week.”

How come his attitude changed so rapidly all of a sudden? Am I starting to get delusional or did Fury’s game just change? I divert my eyes to Deanna and see her glaring at Nick. Apparently, I’m not delusional, or she’s in on it. She meets my eyes and smiles politely.

“Nick just recognizes your posture towards coming back. It was in the field that we lost you, it’s quite normal for you to have a fear of coming back. We are taking this one step at a time, whenever you’re ready is soon enough. Just understand that we are here to help you, and sometimes a push is required to help someone get back on track.”

“When can I meet this Rumlow?”

“Whenever you feel like it, you can visit him in the gym. He usually trains every day from seven until nine in the morning. I’ll give him a heads up that you might stop by.” Fury isn’t looking in my direction but having an eye-to-eye with Deanna.

“Right, I’ll leave you two alone now. You’ll probably hear from Rumlow when I’ve visited the gym.” I take my leave quickly, before either one of them has anything else to say. Whatever it is they’re discussing, I don’t need to hear it.

Back home I work up the courage to read another entry in Bucky’s diary. I feel like I’m having relapses, reading his diary. Memories of our time before the war are starting to return. It’s been hard to keep my mind clear when there’s nothing to distract me. Never expected that reading his diary would open up this big chest of memories I’ve been carrying around. I had it nicely sealed up since Bucky’s death, but being this close to him has irreversibly opened up memories of a forgotten past.

_Dear journal,_

_I’m kind off coming up short with the details from my mission for you. They’ve been saying stuff like: “Don’t write anything about the missions in your journals. If the Nazis ever catch you it’s going to be the first thing they check. Better not spill any beans before you’ve even opened your mouth.”_

_Which is also the reason I try to keep you at camp at all times. Which is really inconvenient when you’re on a mission for two weeks straight. But hey, at least the Nazis didn’t catch me yet, otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this!_

_I’m considering stuffing you in my coat anyway, Nazis or not. I haven’t been able to write any sufficient stuff down anyway. Not on the missions, not on my feelings. Although I know this is going to stay between you and me, I’m still embarrassed to write any of it down._

_This is just stuff guys don’t talk about. Sure, we brag about the girls we spot, especially since we’re all stuck here. But big talk about nice girls isn’t talking about your feelings. Not the way I see it anyway. Couldn’t express my feelings, even if I wanted to. I can’t seem to find the words for them._

_Every beautiful dame that comes up to me and dances with me, I’m talking about before the war here. I know how to hit her buttons, I know how to make them comfortable and happy. It’s like second nature, I wouldn’t think twice about it, I just do it. But, you know what?  
It never felt quite right, it just never does. I never felt at ease, truly comfortable with the beautiful dame hanging on my arm. Only when I brought her home and made my way back to you, the calm would return._

_And now? Now I leave the guys to fend for themselves on nights of leave. They usually head into town to pick up one of the local girls. A relieve of stress, they call it. I can’t make myself do it, I just stay at camp with you._

_What a horrible language French is anyway. It sounds like their singing whatever they say. Moreover I don’t understand one single word of it, it’s total gibberish if you ask me._

Alright… what?

What is he saying? Am I really going to need Deanna after all? Whereas former entries used to make at least a little bit sense, this one leaves me grabbing for strings that aren’t there. I can’t make up one single logical thing about this, what the hell is he saying?!

At least he apparently did like to write about his feelings, whatever he wrote down. This is something I never heard him talk about. Every night that he’d come back from a date with a girl, he’d be happy and giddy. Like he had just gotten laid, really.

“Have a nice time?”

“Yeah, she danced real pretty. It was a good night.” Nothing would ever leave his lips. Bucky and sharing his experiences with girls was something I was always guessing at.

“When you’re ready Steve, you’ll figure it all out on your own. Won’t need any advice from me, you can charm a girl best on your own terms.” And so much for Barnes’ advice on stuff.

I think that is the closest he ever got to telling me anything about women. What a miracle I still remember this stuff.

_Dear journal,_

_I can’t believe I’m actually back here writing you. I can’t believe you’re here with me. It’s been a week since you brought me back. I was captured by the Nazi’s on a routine assignment. Dumb luck really, but I sure thought they were going to kill me. Obviously they didn’t, for reasons that are unclear to me._

_~~I can tell you what they did do though.~~ _ _I didn’t tell you what they did to me. You found me on a table, that much I remember. Was I talking? Was I breathing? Was I remotely responding to anything you did? The only thing I can remember from that moment is that you look so different._

_~~A hell of a lot bigger, that’s for sure.~~ _ _You’ve asked me repeatedly over the past couple of days why I was lying there. What were they doing to me? Every time I respond with:  “I don’t know.” I honestly don’t know._

_I know I’ve lied to you before, but I can’t believe you actually took this one from me. It was clear in your eyes you didn’t believe me, yet you accepted my lies without any struggle. Why?_

Oh shit. I slam the diary shut and shove it to the back of the table. There it is, the shock I had been waiting to read about, my rescuing Bucky out of that Hydra facility.

“Damn it Buck!” I scare myself when I realize I’m shouting out loud. I knew it! I don’t remember how many times I asked him what they were doing to him, but he was awake when I found him. He was humming his name and rank, over and over again. I doubt he was fully conscious, but it only took so much persuading to wake him up. I also doubt he slept through everything they did to him.

Damn it, if only I’d been more persistent in my questions! But he was going through hell even without me watching his every move.

 

“You remember Sergeant Barnes, Peggy?”

“That old buddy of yours? Sure I do, he served with you in the war, didn’t he?” She is doing better again. They’ve put her on a different set of meds which keep her a whole lot calmer during the day. They explained to me that an overload of information can cause her brain to short-circuit. As healthy human beings we all have different ways of handling emotions. But her methods of controlling her emotions have been thrown out the window.

Picture a three-year-old kid, getting told that they’re not allowed to have any more candy. Natural reaction of the kid is to start screaming bloody Mary and cry really loud until it either gets the candy, or the parents figure out something else to keep the kid’s mind occupied.

Now try to imagine Peggy being the three-year-old, only with the knowledge of somebody much older than that. Finding a distraction for a child is easy since its attention span is not very long, but Peggy’s attention span is not very short.

The problem that occurred two weeks ago was a result of Peggy not getting what she asked for. Her natural reaction was to start screaming bloody Mary’s. But the staff was coming up short with ideas on how to distract her from her own tantrum.  Eventually all she was able to do was cry, her brain being unable to process the emotions she was feeling.

“You remember when I rescued him from that Hydra facility?” I know I’m pushing her limits, but she usually doesn’t remember him at all. This is one of the few chances to ask her about him and considering she’s remembering him today, I’ll take what I can get.

“Your suicide mission to rescue all those men that were captured? Of course I remember that, I thought you were going to die out there. But you couldn’t be stopped, stubborn as you are.”

“You remember that Bucky wasn’t with the other guys when I found him? And that I thought something was off about him when I brought him back.”

“The only thing I remember is being very pissed with you for putting your life at risk the way you did. You could’ve died back there!” She sounds slightly agitated now.

“But I didn’t. And I brought a lot of good soldiers back home too.”

“A lot of those men were traumatized during their days in captivity. There were a lot of soldiers that were sent back home because they couldn’t process the fear. I remember your Bucky being one of the men that didn’t seem affected at all. He carried on with more force then before, like being captured only gave him more stamina to keep going.” Definitely agitated.

“Buck always had a great drive when it came to protecting me.” I respond.

“Was that it? Because physically you outran him by miles back then.”

“Physically maybe, but not in knowledge.”

“Did you find what you were looking for?” She holds my hand and squeezes. We’ve been sitting at the table in her room, chatting next to the window. She’d been distracted with activity outside, but is looking directly at me now.

“Maybe my thoughts of him are tainted in a way? I only remember him acting different then what I was used to. I never considered that he could be traumatized, he never talked about stuff like that.”

“He must have been, but he didn’t show it in his work. I remember him as being one of the best soldiers you had on your team.” She replies.

“Yeah, I remember that part too.” We chatter a bit about other stuff. The weather is still nice outside, we plan on going out next time I come and visit her. She probably won’t remember, but if she does, I’ll take her to the park. It’s beautiful this time of year.

Before I leave, I notify the nurses of our idea. They respond with the usual, “She probably won’t remember after she had her nap.”

“I know, but if she does, I would like to have permission to take her to the park.”

“As long as you notify us when you take her somewhere, it’s fine. We believe she’ll be safe in your hands.”

 

The next morning, I team up with Sam for our morning jog.

“So, you’re really serious about getting back in the game?”

“Not yet. It’s like I said, I’m taking it one step at a time.”

“Yeah, I know you said that. But I’ve heard more veterans talk about taking it one step at a time. Before I knew it, they were already back on their feet and I wouldn’t see them anymore.”

“Well, I’m not sure I’ll be one of those guys. I’ve been having a hard time adapting to our new string of command. It used to be a whole lot simpler in my time.”

“That’s cause your Captain America, man! Back in the forties you were everything we had! Of course, you could get anything done if you asked for it. I bet people worshipped the ground you walked on.”

“Well, I don’t really think that’s how it went.”

“That’s surely how they portray it these days.”

“I had to work hard to get where I ended up. And if I wanted to get something done, I had to convince the man in charge to make it so. It wasn’t an easy job, but at least I knew the guy. These days I feel like everyone has a second and third agenda and everybody is under someone else’s command.”

“Those in command are under someone’s command to make sure everything goes as it’s supposed to go. They’re there for our own safety, Steve.”

“Yeah well, good heavens I didn’t have any of that crap back in the day. I would’ve never been able to rescue Buck……” I trip over my own feet again. Sam doesn’t respond to my hiccup, he just slows his pace till I’m back at his side.

“You mean sergeant Barnes?”

“Yeah, I saved him from the Nazi’s back in the war.” I’m thankful for Sam not pushing this subject any further. Although it’s hard to admit, I’m still having trouble talking about Bucky.

By the time we reach our split-point we haven’t regained our conversation.

“Thanks for the jog, I’ll see you the day after tomorrow?”

“Sure man, you make sure not to trip over anything tomorrow? Have you ever tried using an iPod to keep your mind occupied?”

“IPod? Would that be the phone or something else?”

“Something else!” Sam utters a laugh. “It’s a device you can store music on. But it’s roughly the size of a phone and it also has a lot of abilities a phone has, so I get the confusion. You might want to give it a try? I usually love listening to music to keep my mind occupied. It’s sounds like you could use some distraction too.”

“Thanks, I hope it’ll help.”

“See ya!” Sam steers of in the other direction while I wait a little before resuming my way home. I think the iPod might actually help, if I knew what music to put on it.

 


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter Five_

**Du bist wie ein Alptraum, der mich träumt.**  
 **Hab von deinem Trip, den Absprung versäumt.**  
 **Ich bin besessen, von deinem Fluch.**  
 **Vergessen, hab ich versucht.**  
 **Zerfetz dein Tagebuch.**  
 **Ich find' mich nicht, auch wenn ich such den.**  


Rumlow seems like a nice guy. Although, if that’s an impression ones back can give you. He’s been punching a bag for the last fifteen minutes and isn’t showing any signs of fatigue. I’ve considered joining him, but I’m afraid of pushing my luck. Boxing has been a thing I enjoy when it comes to my workouts. Imagining punching someone really hard gets me going like nothing else. The primal drive to defend myself against a bully starts kicking in and before I know it there’s another bag broken.

Like I said, I don’t want to push my luck and start breaking stuff on my first day here. I’m not planning on doing any training, anyway. Just came to meet this Rumlow guy, see if he’ll be of any use the coming months.

I used to be a good judge of character of soldiers in the field. It’s how I chose the howling commandos, I would guess that’s proof enough of my better judgement. But that was almost seventy years ago and the war isn’t the same as it was back then. Moreover, the soldiers are a hell of a lot different then what I’m used to.

“Captain Rogers?”

“Agent Rumlow, I presume?” He’s ended his training and has walked back to me, offering a hand.

“Pleasure to meet you, sir. Can I help you with anything?” Rumlow has begun his cooling down, obviously not letting me interrupt his training schedule.

“Not really, just came to meet you. Haven’t been up to training yet, but I guess it doesn’t hurt to look around.”

“Fury said you’ll come back in active duty soon.”

“Fury has played his hand before it was dealt. I’m not doing anything yet and certainly not active duty.” The agent doesn’t seem at all surprised by my remark about his boss.

“In contrast to others here, Fury believes that you have a lot to offer us. He is very excited to see you get back in the game.”

“You being the others in this equation?” I asks directly.

“I’m one of the guys that would like to see you perform in your new environment. Things aren’t like they used to be, I wonder if you’re not getting in over your head.”

“Well, there are a lot of people making sure I don’t kill myself on my first assignment back. I’m hoping you’ll be one of those too.”

“I’ll sure be around to watch.” Rumlow grabs his towel and walks past me towards the dressing rooms. “See you next time, cap.”

 

Deanna offers a new insight on Rumlow’s behavior towards me.

“You’re an icon, Steve. Of course he’s going to react different then what you expected. He wasn’t expecting an equal and you’re not going to find one in him.”

“But why did he have to be so rude?”

“That’s just Rumlow’s nature, he’ll always be frank with you. You better get used to it, considering he’s going to be the one that’ll be tagging along with you.”

“I think I could get used to it, he’s just not at all what I would look for in an agent. Can’t see why Fury would hire such a cold-blooded, pumped up, full of himself – guy.”

“Well, that’s one way to describe him. But Fury didn’t hire him, it was secretary Pierce that assigned Rumlow to SHIELD.”

“Secretary Pierce? Why would he interfere in Fury’s business?”

“He knew Rumlow from before and recommended him. When Fury didn’t hire him, Pierce did. Nevertheless, Fury now acknowledges Rumlow as one of his top operatives and wouldn’t assign him to you if he wasn’t absolutely sure Rumlow will have your back when needed.” Let’s hope he won’t shoot at it. I don’t trust the guy for a single penny, but obviously I’m going to have to let go of my prejudice and just see what’ll happen.

“He’s the best of the best?”

“He sure is. You could learn a lot from him if you would just open your mind. A lot of things have changed over the years, we don’t fight the same wars anymore. Rumlow could help you redefine your basic strategies.”

“Right, just make me do my basic training all over again?”

“Steve, we’re not going to make you do a hundred push-ups just to see if you’re in shape. He’s going to try and help you adapt to the new ways.” She means well, I know that. But it feels like I’m a little child again who’s been told that his pronunciation is wrong and has to learn to speak all over again.

I used to speak with a thick Brooklyn accent, who would’ve expected they didn’t appreciate it? I’ve endured many hours of pronunciation training to lose my accent and speak flawlessly. It was humiliating to lose something I was so proud of.

“I know you can’t help me, but honestly, it feels like you’re telling me my breathing is wrong and I need to learn how to inhale and exhale all over again. Fighting feels like second nature to me and now you’re telling me I’m doing it wrong?” Deanna takes a deep breath and looks at me. “Like I said, I know you can’t help me with this.” I emphasize.

“I knew you would be angry when you got out of the ice. It was your prerogative, it’s not easy adapting to your environment. Certainly, when it has grown and changed for almost seventy years yet you’ve slept through it all. I’ve been trying to help you let go of all that anger, but I can’t make you.” She takes a moment to sip some water, gestures me to take my seat. I’ve risen and started pacing through the room, that seems to have become a habit.

“I really believe that resuming your training and getting back into the field will give you the release you’ve been looking for. The fact that Rumlow is getting under your skin, makes me believe that he is the best option you have to calming your nerves.”

There’s a moment of silence in her speech.

“Rumlow is giving you the edge to push through. Perhaps because he’s getting on your nerve, you’ll be more inclined to get back into the fight.”

“So, because your brilliant idea with Buck’s diary didn’t pay off the way you like, you send Rumlow up my ass? It feels like I’m some kind of acupuncture-experiment. Just keep stuffing those needles till something hits the right button.”

“I honestly believe that getting back into the field will provide you with the distraction you’ve been looking for. Obviously postponing it hasn’t calmed your nerves, you’re still very angry.” Well, she isn’t wrong there.

“Sure, I want the help. I just wish that getting back into active duty wasn’t the solution.” I look in Deanna’s way. Her full focus is on me, but it doesn’t seem like she’s willing to respond. She offers a question in return.

“Are you still reading the diary?”

“I am, but it’s hard. The things Bucky writes about feel like they’ve only happened a few years ago. It hurts to be reminded how I ruined my last days with him.”

“Why would you say that you ruined them?”

“Bucky was in pain and I tried to help him, but I could see he didn’t want any help. We never addressed the elephant in the room, and now it’s through his diary I finally find out what was wrong. It feels wrong to understand it now, it hurts to be confronted like this.”

“I understand that it is difficult, but understanding him now gives you the ability to resolve your grief. Sergeant Barnes is providing you with a different set of eyes, one that will open your mind.” I take a deep breath and rise to my feet. There is a knock on the door and Deanna’s assistant opens it.

“Ma’am, your next patient is here.”

“Yes, I’ll be ready in a moment. Steve, please try and read some more of sergeant Barnes’ diary. I want to incorporate it the next time you’re here. And do consider visiting Fury and discuss what we talked about.”

“Yes, I’ll try and remember bringing it next time. Bye!” I flee the room before she can say anything else. I don’t suppose there was more she had to tell me, but you never know.

I take the elevator down to the gym and check if there is any room to train. It’s divided in multiple sections from which two are boxing areas. One of them is empty when I enter it. I lose my jacket and shirt and start a warm-up.

What a relief to punch all my troubles to the back of my mind. My body is tingling while the bag keeps taking the punches, muscles are relaxing thanks to the exercise. I can feel my body settling in a familiar pose and my mind coming at ease. How I missed this bliss.

 

Bucky’s diary is bookmarked where I stopped reading it. I used to leave it open on the page where I stopped reading, exposed to the light that hits the table on daytime. Learned the hard way that seventy-year-old ink fades through sunlight.

I’ve put the diary safely away after the last time I read it. I reach for it now, opening it at the bookmarked page.

_Dear Journal,_

_Having you here proves to be difficult. ~~What a stubborn piece of shit you are sometimes.~~ Have you noticed you’re making my perfect diary all smudged? Just like in real life I keep correcting everything I say to you. Nothing comes out right anymore._

_Why are you here anyway? Why’d you have to save me? Couldn’t you just have stayed safe back in America? Safe from gunfire and bombs and Nazi’s? ~~Why’d you have to try and be a hero? Wasn’t I enough for you?~~_

_I wish you’d have stayed home. I wish you wouldn’t have grown as much as you did. The girls can’t take their eyes off you and I can’t blame them. You sure look like a demi-god if you ask me._

_I’m beginning to have flashbacks of my time with the Nazi’s. During the night, when I’m trying to get some sleep, the memories return. I muffle my screams with my jacket every time I wake up, but I know I’m not fooling you with it. I recognize when you’re not asleep but trying hard to pretend that you are. Your stares concern me, but you keep your questions to yourself which I am grateful for._

_They started with a needle in my spine, keeping me awake during the procedure. I remember seeing people move in and out of my peripheral vision, constantly feeling cold metals brushing my skin._

It’s weird to read how Buck still wanted to protect me from the war, while I was built for that purpose. In many ways I was a whole lot stronger than he ever was. I might not have had the experience of fighting in a war, but that came with time. Time that could’ve been spent a lot better if he would’ve just opened up to me when I asked him.

Somewhere I feel relieved he at least got to write it down to get it of his chest. But obviously it still kept him busy every day. There was no counselor like Deanna available to us in Europe, we had to process our grieve and fear on our own. The diary didn’t work for most of the soldiers, but for some it did. I don’t think Buck slept any better at night, but at least it gave him the opportunity to voice his troubles to somebody, anybody but me.

I wonder how long I can deny to myself that reading this is opening up more wounds than I intended. How long will I try and ignore the reason that I mis Bucky so much?

 

“Hey Steve! What are you running from, man?! I’ve been trying to keep up with you, but it’s a good thing you’re running circles because I can’t even trail you.”

“Hey man, sorry! I’ve been a bit preoccupied and I’m not really checking my environment as much. This is my usual pace, honestly.”

“Really? I’m just slowing you down every time we run together?”

“Well, to be quite frank….” I smile and Sam starts laughing.

“I’m that good company, right?” We jog in silence for a little while, I trail behind Sam to make sure I don’t outrun him again. My thoughts drift back to Bucky and if getting back into the field is the right step to take.

“How’s that iPod coming along?” We’ve been circling the park for nearly twenty minutes before Sam starts talking again. I raise my eyebrows in response.

“You see any earplugs on me?”

“Ehh, no not really.”

“I haven’t gotten to it yet. I’ve been busy trying to control my own life without others taking the necessary steps for me.” This time it’s Sam’s eyebrows that rise in response.

“What do you mean man? Still trying to figure out how to not get into active duty?”

“Yes. They’re pushing me into a corner and I can’t see a way out, really.”

“Steve, this corner you’re talking about? It honestly sounds like you’ve created it for yourself. I know it feels like people are pressuring you into doing stuff, but I’ve heard this before and I’ve been through it myself. In order to face your fears, you must first accept them.”

“Seems I’ve gotten myself two counselors!” Sam laughs in response. He slows his pace to a walk and taps my back.

“Honestly man, you shouldn’t do anything you don’t feel comfortable with. But I know Captain America was never one to back out of a fight. Don’t you want to face your fears head on?”


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter Six_

It’s been three weeks since my first training with Rumlow. I know it doesn’t sound like a lot of time has passed, but I pick stuff up as fast as one throws it at me. And Rumlow appears to be a guy that throws pretty damn fast. We’ve had a lot of combat training which wasn’t really a surprise. Not much has changed, they’ve only gotten nastier over the years.

Rumlow has tried to get me to the shooting range. His opinion is that one needs a gun to win a fight, one I strongly disagree on. My shield renders guns useless when people are fighting me, so obviously I value hand-to-hand combat more than shooting-practice. However, I cannot argue that when at war, these things go hand in hand.

And so, here I am, aiming a gun at a piece of paper.

They’ve printed Red-Skull on it for good measure.

“For crying out loud, I’ve already killed the guy. What did you have to do that for?”

“We hoped it would give you more incentive to shoot.”

“Well, you hoped wrong. But I’ll shoot the damned thing anyway.” I take ten shots and obliterate the upper half of the paper.

“You should try and aim for the head. A head shot does the job nice and easy, gives you more time to shoot the rest and it saves bullets.” I slowly turn my head to face Rumlow. Part of me just wants to mess with the guy, but I doubt he can take a joke. Not everyone understands sarcasm.

“I was aiming for the head. Like I said before, I don’t see the need to shoot anybody when I can knock them unconscious myself.”

“You won’t always have the time or possibility to get that close to your opponent.”

“Yeah well, you guys shoot and I’ll fight.” I unarm the gun and put it down. “I’m done here.”

 

I’ve got the journal stuffed in my pocket when I enter Peggy’s room. She’s sitting at her table looking out the window. The weather is changing, it’s been getting colder. The sun doesn’t shine as much and her mood is mimicking it.

“Such a sad, sad day.”

“Why is that?”

“Have you seen the weather? The clouds are crying, people are staying inside, it’s been getting darker every day. Dark times ahead, we should all be prepared!” Delirious talk is not uncommon for Peggy. She was never a big fan of the winter and this is her way of expressing it.

“It’ll be winter soon, maybe it will snow! Surely it would be nice to make snow angels again, don’t you think?” She doesn’t respond to my question. “Hey Peggy?”

“How do you know my name?” She looks up at me and meets my eyes. As she recognizes me her eyes soften and she turns them back to the window. “Oh, it’s you Steve! But you’re not really here. I know that because you died in that plane. They told me I could get delirious with grieving over you. Maybe this is a dream after all? I sure hope it’s better weather when I wake up.”

I take the diary out of my pocket and place it on the table. We remain silent while I open it and start flipping through pages. I get her attention pretty quickly and she watches while I reach the bookmark. I take it out and place it on the table, while turning the diary towards Peggy and looking up at her.

“Would you mind reading this?”

“What is it?”

“It’s something I’ve been meaning to read, but I’m scared of what it will say. Maybe you could read it out loud to me? It might not be as scary then?”

“Well, this sure is a new dream. I’ve never had to read anything to the strong and handsome Steve Rogers! But if it’ll make you feel better, I will.” She clears her voice and starts reading the entry out loud.

_Dear journal,_

_We’re back in the field again. I’ll refrain from telling you what we are doing here and who is with me, but I can assure you that it’s all the idea of one stupid person, dumb enough to come save my sorry ass in the first place. The one that should have stayed home._

_Apparently the blue stuff that they’ve inserted into my veins before I was knocked out cold on their operating table, did have some effect on my physique. I seem to be healing much quicker than before. ~~Frightening, I can tell you.~~_

_Today we got ambushed by the Nazi’s. We were far in behind enemy lines and we were expecting them, but they were a lot closer than we anticipated. I was hit in the leg, but being a sniper I was way back from the rest of the team, they didn’t know I was hit._

_It’s something I can’t explain, but being shot in battle didn’t cripple me. It gave me the power to pull through the pain and fight even harder to protect the others. By the time we were back in formation and out of danger, you noticed the hole and bloodstains on my uniform._

_I swear if we were back home you would have shown me every corner of the room. You wouldn’t have rested until you were one hundred percent sure that I was speaking the truth to you. Have you changed so much, or have I? I don’t know why, but you actually let it go when I told you to back off._

_You looked so hurt, it broke my heart. ~~At least that’s still the same.~~_

Peggy takes a pause to look me in the eye. I don’t see any recognition in them but she doesn’t seem confused either. She stares at me while I try to regain my posture.

“What is this, Steve?” She sounds as clear as the day I met her.

“It’s Bucky’s diary.” I respond in a small voice. She’s still staring at me and I’m starting to feel uncomfortable. As you would feel if you made someone read in a diary that wasn’t ever meant to be read.

“Did you scratch through the lines or did he do that himself?”

“He did that himself, why?”

“Well, those or some mixed signals I’m reading here. Did you know he was in love with someone?” I remain silent as I look for a trace of sarcasm in her eyes? Anything to know that she was just joking, but there is nothing there.

“What are you saying?”

“Well, this guy he’s talking about? It’s clear he feels something for him, why else would his heart break when he looks hurt?” She looks at me with her eyebrows raised.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Steve, you have any idea who he’s writing about?”

Me… I think?

“No, I don’t know.” I take the diary back and place the bookmark where the next entry begins. Peggy looks lost now there’s nothing in her hands anymore. I place my hands in them and squeeze.

“Thank you so much for doing this.”

“I don’t know what I did. I sure hope it helped you?” It didn’t, it only opened up more wounds that can’t be closed. Wounds no one can fix, only the writer of the diary.

“It sure did.” I lie to her. She doesn’t need to know how hurt I am. She needs me to be happy and the Steve she remembers, and I will try to be that person again.

“You want to lie down or something?”

“Let’s take a walk. I would like to stretch my legs.”

 

I was honest when I said to Peggy that I don’t know who Bucky’s writing about. I think it’s me, but do I know for sure? Of course there are a lot of indications that would make you believe it’s me he’s talking about. But in my defense, he never names the guy?

I’m very good at fooling myself as long as people don’t ask questions. That is one of the reasons Deanna is still pulling out her hair, trying to make any sense of me. She’s been pushing me to take the diary along to her appointments. I’ve haven’t yet, because I haven’t read anything yet.

I’ve been busy!

Which is exactly what I’ve been telling Deanna for the past three weeks. It is driving her nuts, but it’s very practical to keep my thoughts away from him. And to be fair, she had it coming. They were the ones who gave me the diary in the first place.

I wonder how long I can keep up the façade? I always intended that he wouldn’t come forward with anything, I wouldn’t either. You just don’t go messing with somebody’s head like that, especially not when he’s your roommate. The fear of losing him has always been greater than the need to be loved back. And I knew and know that he loved me, I just never expected him to love me like I loved him.

Well, the diary only proves that I was important in his life, it doesn’t have to mean what Peggy interpreted. Hurting someone you care about and feeling bad about it doesn’t have to mean it is love. Platonic love is also love.

By the time I reach SHIELD it’s already dark. The garage is almost completely empty, which gives me good hope for the gym.

 

I’ve been going at it for a half an hour when I hear the door open. I pause to take a look who’s joined me, it’s Deanna.

“I heard you were training, thought I’d come see if you wanted to talk.”

“It’s not actually training. I’m just trying to clear my head.” I start hitting the punching bag again, effectively silencing Deanna for a little while. However, she doesn’t give up easily and has already grabbed herself a chair to watch me train.

After fifteen minutes of being watched, intensely I might add, I start my cooling down.

“Done already?”

“Yeah, I kind of have a hard time clearing my head with an audience.”

“You got time to talk to me, or have you got somewhere to be?” I face her and notice she has something in her hands. It’s Bucky’s diary.

“You want me to talk about Buck?” I ask.

“Only if you have anything to say about him. Why are you carrying this around?”

“I took it to Peggy this afternoon. We read an entry together.”

“Did it help having Peggy there? Or did it give you more then you were looking for?” She isn’t fishing, just stating that what she already sees in me.

“Peggy wasn’t with us today. She thought she was having a dream and therefore her reactions on the entry are not of value.” It’s a nice diversion but I doubt she’ll fall for it. Wouldn’t hurt to try, though.

“On the contrary, Steve. When one thinks they are dreaming they will be franker and more open with you because they believe it will have no effect either way. They’re dreaming, and so if it is only in their head, no one could possibly get hurt over what has been said.”

“Well, she thinks Bucky is writing about someone he loves. Or cares for deeply. Or is of big significance to him.” I stumble over my words and turn towards my bag. God, I really don’t want to talk about this! “How’d you get the diary anyway?”

“It was visible in your coat. I figured it be better to grab it before anyone else enters and takes it from you.” Right, cause anyone in their right mind would grab an old book from my jacket and run like crazy?

“What did you have in mind when you heard I was here? Did you really think that punching a bag would get me talking? Maybe throw a book at me for good measure and I might finally open up to you? Don’t you see that I don’t want to open up?! I want to close this chest you’ve been trying to crack with his diary and your questions.” I take a pause but Deanna doesn’t react. “Fury wanted me to get back into the game. He thinks I’ll be a great addition to the team, that I can help make this country a better and safer place again. Well, you can tell him that he succeeded with your plan. Cause this training gives me enough abilities to bury that chest.”

“You want to know how I dealt with the war and losing my friend? No one ever gave me a diary to write in. Sure, there were people you could talk to, but they had enough problems of their own! I put it all in a big chest and buried it. Buried it far away where I don’t have to face it. Makes my job a whole lot easier, and that’s what I’m here for right?!”

“Steve, please. Don’t close up again. Let me help you accept the loss of your friend. Let me relieve you from the heavy burden you’ve been carrying.”

“I don’t think you can. I don’t see how opening up now will give me peace. I think it will only hurt more, because I will realize what I’ve missed out on and blame myself for not taking any action.”

“Only when you are clear in your mind on how you feel about his loss, can you really start to grieve about your friend. Denying yourself the importance of what Bucky meant to you is crippling you in dealing with your grief.” I sit down in front of Deanna on the floor and place my head in my hands. “Are you afraid of your feelings for him or his feelings for you?” She asks.

“Both.” I begin to sob, I don’t want to think about all we’ve missed out on only because we lived in a different time. “Seeing the relationships nowadays. The way every kind of relationship is accepted and not ridiculed or even forbidden? It’s painful to think about how much I had to struggle in the past, only to see it be so easy now.”

“Would you like me to read the next entry with you?” I look up when I feel her hand on my shoulder. She’s watching me with soft eyes, truly waiting for me to give consent. “I would like to know if Peggy’s assumption was right. If there is anything I can explain to you about what Bucky is writing.”

“I guess you could read it? Peggy read it out loud to me, I still haven’t got the courage to read it myself.”

“How about you read it? I’ll be here to listen and support you. If you can’t handle it or don’t want to, I’ll read it for you.” She pauses while I consider it. I don’t want it but I’m realizing I’ll never get back to his diary if it’s up to me. The things I’m reading are just opening up too many wounds to bare.

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

_“Call it not love, for Love to heaven is fled,_   
_Since sweating Lust on earth usurp'd his name;_   
_Under whose simple semblance he hath fed_   
_Upon fresh beauty, blotting it with blame;_   
_Which the hot tyrant stains and soon bereaves,_   
_As caterpillars do the tender leaves._

_'Love comforteth like sunshine after rain,_   
_But Lust's effect is tempest after sun;_   
_Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain,_   
_Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done;_   
_Love surfeits not, Lust like a glutton dies;_   
_Love is all truth, Lust full of forged lies._

_'More I could tell, but more I dare not say;_  
 _The text is old, the orator too green._  
 _Therefore, in sadness, now I will away;_  
 _My face is full of shame, my heart of teen:_  
 _Mine ears, that to your wanton talk attended,_  
 _Do burn themselves for having so offended._ ”

**_Shakespeare – Venus and Adonis_ **

_Dear journal,_

_You remember that night I got home quoting Shakespeare? You laughed so hard at me I thought you might choke! You almost did thanks to your asthma. ~~God forbid that’s something you need to think about anymore.~~_

_I’d been hiding out in the library because of the snow. Another day looking for a job gone stale because I was too chicken to get out there. A Shakespeare novel was left alone on one of the tables. I took my chance and sat down, reading it the entire afternoon. I never thought that it would interest me, but the story of Venus and Adonis grabbed me and hasn’t let me go since._

_I remember this one passage in which Adonis talks about lust and love. About how they exist together in one relationship. It’s something that Adonis leaves behind because he feels too young to commit himself. I really wish I could explain to you why it was this passage that stuck._

_I feel as though with Adonis lust and love are equal to one another. I don’t feel like that. It’s been a whole lot of love and no lust, simply because one cannot afford to feel lust.  
~~I couldn’t and shouldn’t feel it~~_

_I’m afraid to put into words what I mean with this. You’re here and you’re big and you’re not sick anymore and heavens me, if you would just keep your clothes on when we’re on leave and finally have a normal bed to sleep in and … !!!!_

Well, turns out I don’t need Deanna to explain this one to me. She grabs my shoulders and starts massaging them. I gently place the bookmark at the end of the entry and close the diary. We remain silent for a little while, letting the information wash over me.

How different it could have been, if he would still be here.

How wrong was I to assume that his love for me was nothing more than platonic.

 **Nach dir kommt nichts,**  
**Unsern ersten Tag verfluch' ich.**  
**Nach dir kommt nichts,**  
**Alles Neue macht mich fertig.**  
**Nach dir kommt nichts, ich will das nicht.**  
**Du bist und warst und wirst nie wieder alles sein.**  
**Ich hasse dich.**  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys visit Trier, Germany.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my imagination this is where Steve gets into contact with the song. But practically that would be impossible, but hey who am I fooling anyway?
> 
> I imagine we all get to a point where the story just grinds to a halt and doesn't wants to move forward. Well this was my point. I knew where I wanted to go but had yet to figure out how I would get there. And so I decided to write a love letter about Trier. (Or thats at least what my sis called it after reading it....)
> 
> Yes, in short this is a love letter about the beautiful city of Trier in Germany. But it also contains some nice interactions between Rogers and Rumlow. Don't be fooled, I will never write Rumlow as a nice guy.... So he isn't.

_Chapter Seven_

After a few weeks of training and carefully avoiding dealing with my grief, Deanna finally clears me for duty. With strict orders towards Fury that I don’t do anything too dangerous. She’s still a bit apprehensive about letting me get back to work, but apparently Fury pulled some strings.

“We’ve got an intelligence operation for you and Rumlow. This comes directly from secretary Pierce.” We’re in Fury’s office, getting briefed about our upcoming mission. The first one in a while, and secretly I’m glad it’s just for intelligence. Rumlow seems a bit bored, he’s not paying any attention.

Fury continues. “We believe that the tension in Europe is rising, however the EU keeps assuring us that it isn’t. We want to be certain of a few things before we take any actions. Your mission is to gather intelligence in a city in Germany.”

Well, this should be easy.

“We want you both to go undercover as tourists and view the city as any tourist would. You will visit the main sights of the city, meanwhile observing how many officers and agents are on duty. It’ll give you both some time to get to know each other better.”

“It’s not a bonding operation now, is it?” Rumlow, always a helpful fellow.

“No, it’s not. Just don’t make a spectacle of yourselves, because this is an undercover Op. The EU doesn’t know we’re coming to watch and we would like to keep it that way.”

“That’s it then? All we have to do is walk around a city for a whle and come back home?” I ask Fury. Why would they want me and Rumlow doing this? It doesn’t sound like anything the other guys can’t handle. “Why us?”

“I don’t know why. Pierce assigned you specifically, he probably just wants a job well done. It’s a risky one since they don’t know we’re coming. Better be sure we have our best guys taking the operation seriously.”

“How long?”

“You’ll be spending one whole day in Trier, your flight will leave at midnight tomorrow.”

 

Did anyone tell you that when you’re going on an undercover operation, they make you use consumer airlines? Not that such a thing would ever be a problem with me, I haven’t flown in a long time. But apparently, Rumlow isn’t all that keen on flying commercially.

“I can’t believe they couldn’t just send us with a private jet. It’s not like they haven’t got the money for it.”

“Seriously, what’s the purpose of doing these Ops when you’ve blown your cover before you reach your destination?” We’re waiting at the airport for our plane to arrive. It’s a quiet evening and the place is mostly deserted.

“I’m not saying they should send us with some SHIELD plane. Just let us tag along with some secretary that conveniently has to go there anyway.”

“Your usual way of transportation?”

“What? No, of course not! I haven’t been out of the country for over a year.”

“Really? Think you maybe have run your course?” Well, that seemed to hit a nerve. Rumlow throws me a cross look and stands up.

“I’m going to get some coffee. You want anything?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks though.” He’s already gone before I finish my sentence. I wonder why they’ve kept him in the vicinity for the past year. Rumlow seems to me like one of the best operatives SHIELD has to offer, or maybe I still haven’t met them all.

It takes him a while to get back, without a coffee cup. “They’re boarding our plane, you coming?”

 

Of course, we had to endure a bus-ride to get from the airport to the city. I’ve tried staying positive with cranky Rumlow by my side, but he’s got a point here. What’s the harm in getting us a car to drive from the airport to the city and back? Nothing to do about it now, though.

We are dropped off at the amphitheater, complete with paper guide and map. It’s around nine ‘o clock in the morning and we’ve got the entire day to visit a few of Trier’s sightings. We begin by walking through the amphitheater.

Although this is one of the sightings in the city which is protected by UNESCO, it’s deserted around this hour. It’s still early and the city is clearly waking up. We find nothing out of the ordinary here, so decide to head out to the next place on the guide, the Kaiserthermen.

This is also one the of sightings that is protected by UNESCO, and it’s easy to see why. The buildings are magnificent. Very grand and imposing, they make you feel small in comparison. It’s hard to believe something this big has been made so many years ago.

Rumlow however, doesn’t look at all intrigued by our surroundings. As always, he’s very focused on the job at hand.

“I’ve spotted a few officers on the other side of that building. Did you notice anybody?” He asks me when we’re walking through the Palastgarten towards the Konstantin Basilika.

“Can’t you just enjoy your environment for one second?” Rumlow just shakes his head in response.

“We were sent here on a mission, not to enjoy ourselves.”

“We were also told not to make a spectacle of ourselves. Now I suggest you start to enjoy yourself a bit more and loosen up. If you keep up this obvious behavior, they’ll pick us out in no time. Relax, would you? I saw them, and I also saw the two operatives we just passed while entering the gardens.”

It takes a while for Rumlow to react. “Well, good to know you’re at least paying some attention.”

“It’s a fine line between observing your surroundings and keeping an eye on the people around you. I suspect you’ve done this kind of thing before?”

“Of course, I have!” Rumlow looks almost pissed I dare to question it.

“Well, it just felt like you didn’t. You’ve been jumpy since we’ve got off the bus.”

“I just hate to walk around without a gun.” By this time, we reach the Basilika.

A mighty building that doesn’t look like a church, but it is. We enter it and are immediately overpowered by the open space. It’s incredible to walk around in.

We resume our path towards the center of town, a plaza with a lot of stores and restaurants, churches and fountains.

“I’m starting to get hungry. You want to go eat somewhere?” My stomach is growling and it’s no wonder. I haven’t eaten since we’ve gotten off the bus.

“Sure, why don’t we pick a spot near a window so we can oversee the plaza?”

“Good one, with the time we’ll spend eating we’ll have a nice overview of how many people are in the city.” I support his idea, although I hate working and eating at the same time. However, it does give us an easy fix on how many officers are working in comparison to how many tourists are here.

 

After lunch we take a look in the church that’s practically on the plaza. We pass between two buildings onto a little area where you get a view of the side of the church. It’s literally surrounded by the other buildings in the city. Quite a busy little passageway from plaza to church and I notice more than one officer, overviewing the crowd.

The St. Gangolf kirche is relatively small and inside we don’t find anything out of the ordinary. We admire some of the art in the building, blending in with a crowd of tourists before leaving the church.

When were back on the plaza Rumlow start to grumble a bit.

“Another church?! Don’t they have anything else in this town? How many of these things are we going to visit?!”

“You don’t appreciate a bit of culture, do you?” My patience with Rumlow’s attitude is beginning to wear thin.

“I do! I just mis the whole point of expressing it in churches.”

“These buildings are the bases of the peoples religion. It’s no more than logical that every form of religion is expressed through churches. You see that in every country.” I take a deep sigh while we walk towards the Saint Peter Dom.

It’s a very big and imposing building, stretching beyond our eyesight. There are a lot of people taking pictures of the front facing wall and we pause to admire the view.

“Can’t say this isn’t an impressive view.” Finally a positive word from Rumlow!

“It’s amazing, isn’t it? I wonder what the inside looks like.” I sound cheerful and hope that Rumlow catches my drift. There are a few officers at the entrance of the church, not specifically holding people up but definitely on the lookout.

“You want to take a picture before we go inside?” I ask him. Maybe he’ll see through the charade and understand I’m trying to act as a tourist couple before we enter. There’s a big chance we’ll find more officers of the law inside. Whether they’ll be undercover or not, we’ll see when we get there.

That is, if we ever get there. Rumlow isn’t catching my drift.

“No, I just told you I don’t care for any of these buildings. Why on earth would I want to go on a picture with one?”

“Well, just take a picture of me then. And for god sake, act like a tourist, would you?” I whisper when I hand over the camera.

Rumlow just shakes his head and takes the pictures.

“Don’t stress so much, cap. They’re not looking for any undercover agents, just trying to keep the people calm.”

“Why?” I ask out loud. We pass through the doors unnoticed and are immediately silenced by the impressive interior of the Dom. There’s a certain grandness echoing from the inside of the church, making you feel humble in comparison.

The space is so big that we decide to split up, making it easier to work our way through the packs of people scattered across the church. Various paintings, statues and plaques are displayed, giving every visitor a chance to focus on smaller details.

I signal Rumlow that I’m also taking a look in the gardens, and that’s where I hit the jackpot. I spot various agents cluttered in different areas of the gardens. Some are eating, some just chatting. It looks like they’re just taking a break, but the earplugs are hard to mis on the majority of the men. I patiently take a detour, avoiding the groups of people, working my way back inside.

In the other end of the Dom I meet up with Rumlow.

“There are a couple of agents taking a break in the gardens. I suggest you check it for yourself and we’ll meet again outside?”

“Sure, I’ll see you in about fifteen minutes in front of the next building?”

“Yeah, the LIebfrauenkirche. It’s the church next to this one.” I check our guide to see what’s left of our tour. “After that it’s only the Porta Nigra and then we’re done.”

“Thank god for that.” Rumlow exclaims.

 

We’re on one of the top levels of the Porta Nigra when Rumlow joins me near the window I was staring out.

“I haven’t detected any officers or agents here since the one at the entry. I think we’ve got enough information to bring back with us. What do you say to heading back home?”

“Wouldn’t you want to eat here before we leave? Try some bratwurst while we’re in town?” I’m only teasing him of course.

“We’re not here for fun, agent Rogers!”

“Keep your voice down, Rumlow. We’re supposed to be undercover, you remember that? Eating a local delicacy before we leave is not prohibited. Have some fun for a change!” Rumlow looks at me but doesn’t react. He just stomps off in the other direction, heading for the stairs.

“If you’re planning on leaving by yourself, I hope you’re carrying your credit card because I’ve got the tickets.” This makes him pause for only a second.

“I’m going to check if we can eat downstairs in the restaurant across from the entrance. If you’re not too consumed with the pretty views, you could join me.”

“You buying?”

“The boss is.” I trail after him, catching up before he hits the stairs.

 

As soon as we board the plane, Rumlow is out. Literally, he’s out like a light. He fell down in the seat near the window, put his earplugs in and was gone before I knew it.

My body feels tired, but I’m unable to sleep. The trip has left me with so many impressions and views and pictures! I wish I could draw all the images that are currently stuck in my head. The great diversity of architecture all squished into one single city.

 

We get home in the middle of the night. Rumlow is cranky as hell, having slept the entire journey.

“I really thought you would be a lot more pleasant when we’d get back to American soil.”

“You try sleeping upright with no sufficient pillow supporting your neck! God, it’s like I’ve been watching a tennis game for the last ten hours! My neck is killing me.”

Well, I get where he’s coming from. The pillows in the plane were a nightmare and nowhere near sufficient enough to support a head. Of course, you’re going to get neck pain from it after ten hours of trying to sleep. Of course, I gave up after half an hour. Rumlow has slept the entire journey, putting a strain on his neck for ten hours straight.

“Good thing we’re home now. I bet your own bed sounds pretty good, right now.” The small talk coming out of my mouth isn’t reaching Rumlow anymore.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at SHIELD, Cap. We’ve got a report to deliver.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you in a few.” I walk towards the nearest exit, leaving Rumlow. He came with his own transportation and is walking back towards the parking-area.

I grab a cab back home. The city is calm and we’re back in what felt like no time at all.

“You dozed off for a moment sir.”

“Did I? I hope I didn’t snore or anything.”

“You didn’t. Have a good night.”

The moment I open the door to my apartment I get a weird feeling. I look for anything out of the ordinary, but everything seems to be the same. I dump my bag and head towards the kitchen, leaving the living area not checked for now.

The kitchen seems just the way I left it. I make myself a mug of hot milk and wait till it heats up in the microwave. While I’m standing there, thinking about the city we left behind I smell something weird. A vague familiar scent, but I can’t really place it. I try to follow it, but the moment I step towards the living room, the smell is gone.

The microwave beeps to announce my milk is done. I grab my mug and stroll into the living room, aiming for my seat on the couch, but my eyes catch a glimpse of something out of the ordinary.

The diary.

It’s lying on the dining table.

What is it doing there? I remember clearly, last time I held it I put it back in the bookcase. It was standing at its designated spot when I left for Trier. I’m sure of it, so why is it on the table?

No one but me has a key to this apartment. I made sure of that, SHIELD was to have nothing to do with my life outside of the office. But what is that diary doing on the table then?

I open it on the bookmarked page.

_Apparently the blue stuff that they’ve inserted into my veins before I was knocked out cold on their operating table, did have some effect on my physique. I seem to be healing much quicker than before. ~~Frightening, I can tell you.~~_

_Today we got ambushed by the Nazi’s. We were far behind enemy lines and we were expecting them, but they were a lot closer than we anticipated. I was hit in the leg, but being a sniper I was way back from the rest of the team, they didn’t know I was hit._

Well, that’s definitely not where I left it! Who has been here?


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter Eight_

After the meeting with Fury and Rumlow I rush back home. I know the building has a few security camera’s, I’m hoping there’ll be footage of the intruder.

I find Frank at his regular place, just outside his “office”, the janitor’s room.

“Hey Frank, has anybody been in my apartment the last couple of days?”

“Beside yourself? Not that I know of. Something going on?” He replies

“Well, I have reason to believe someone’s been in there when I was gone yesterday. There were some things out of place.”

“We can check the camera’s if you want?” Frank motions towards the room behind him.

“It would really help to calm my nerves.” I confess.

“No need to be nervous, sir. You know we’ve got security around the clock in this building.”

“One of the reasons why I chose this apartment. Could you check the feed from yesterday?” I ask.

“Sure, although it’s going to be a while to filter through all the hours. You’ve got a timespan I need to check?”

“I’ve been gone the whole day, left at midnight and got back at midnight.”

“So, 24 hours it is. I’ll get right to it, let you know if I find anything.” He replies easily.

“Any chance I could check them myself? I promise not to be a bother.” Not because I think Frank couldn’t handle the task, but I just hate waiting or it.

“Are you going to need my help or do you think you could manage by yourself?”

“Well, I haven’t done anything like this before, so a little help would be nice. But once I’ve got the hang of it, I can check the feed myself.”

“I’ll get you started so you can check it yourself. I’ve got some other stuff to do anyway, come on back here and take a seat.”

Frank explains the basics of switching camera’s and moving back and forth in the streams. There are a few camera’s I can check to see if anyone has been in or near my apartment.

“Just let me know when you’re done, ok?”

“Sure thing, Frank.”

 

Three hours in and I’m not a single step closer to solving the mystery. Whoever broke into my apartment was clever enough not to use the front door, that’s for sure. I’ve got a glimpse of a person moving past the emergency exit at the end of my hallway. The stairs end in the alley next to our building where we don’t have any camera’s.

I note the time and place of ‘the glimpse’ and thank Frank for his time. If there’s a camera directed at that staircase, I doubt the person in possession of it will allow me to see the feed. Nevertheless, I go check out the alley.

There are two ways to exit the alley, either via the roof of our building or back towards the street. Neither direction has a camera pointed at it, so that’s a dead end. Whoever it was sure knew how to stay invisible.

I decide to take a walk, letting my mind wander in the process. This person must have had specific training to know how to avoid being detected. I remind myself to check the lock on my door when I get home and make a mental note to ask around at SHIELD. I doubt Fury would have anyone search my apartment, but they might have an idea of who would.

I get myself a cup of coffee to-go and go home. The lock on my door seems fine, which was to be expected. I can’t find any signs of a break-either. I left the diary on the table, too preoccupied yesterday to put it away.

_Dear journal,_

_Did they ever even train you for combat? Did you even do basics back home? Did they think about what kind of child they would be sending into a war zone before they pumped you up like this? ~~You almost took my heart today, along with your own I might add~~._

_A stupid kid, that’s what you are. You’re no better then you were back home! You might be bigger and healthier but you’re still that scruffy little back-alley kid who always knows how to get himself in trouble!_

_I almost shot you in the head today, you idiot! Didn’t they tell you to stay clear of any snipers? Don’t you know what your back looks like? I swear, we need to get that Stark-guy to hook you up with a shield that’s permanently attached to your back, ‘cause you don’t seem to remember that you have one!_

_Why don’t you put us all out of our misery and go back to your shows back home? We might be better in winning the war without some idiot getting in the line of fire! You’re not invincible, you know?! They could actually kill you! ~~God help me if they do, I won’t be far behind.~~_

My room feels deadly silent while I stare ahead, letting the entry seep into my mind. I never thought of myself as invincible. I did feel like I could tackle the world, with you on my side. Especially since you always seemed to be one step ahead of me. I remember you always being pissed when I thanked you for yet another cover.

“Why don’t you just watch out before barging in everywhere? I won’t always be here to have your back, you know!” I can still hear you say it, as pissed as you were with me. I leave the diary and start preparing dinner while reminiscing old times. At least the food is a hell of a lot better now-a-days.

 

“I’m telling you, there was someone in my apartment!”

“Steve, you can’t go around accusing people of breaking into your apartment without any evidence. You’re going to need proof before anyone will believe you.” Sam used his very serious face while telling me this.

“So, you don’t believe me?”

“It’s a misplaced diary! How on earth do you think I can believe someone broke into your apartment based on a misplaced diary?” He takes a deep sigh and start stretching. We’re about to go jogging again but took a pause because of my concerns. “You’re being paranoid.”

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence.” I’m sure he can hear that I’m pissed at the moment. It doesn’t change anything, though. Obviously, I’ll have to find some hard evidence before I can accuse anyone of breaking in.

After our run we both had some time to think about it and Sam offers a new opinion.

“Isn’t it a little strange that someone would break into your apartment, not to steal anything but to take a look in a diary that isn’t even yours? And why not take it with them? Why leave it there, supposedly for you to find it out of place? Maybe this someone is trying to get in your head?”

“Well I don’t know why anybody would be in my apartment in the first place. But it sure is keeping me occupied. Does this mean you believe me now?”

“Course not! For all I know you did it in your sleep without remembering it. Tell me Steve, are you a sleepwalker?” Sam is staring right at me, straight face and everything.

“I don’t know Sam, nobody’s been around at night to tell me.”

 

Upon getting home I close the door behind me and immediately feel something is out of place. The space feels different, like somebody is inside. I take a look around the living and spot nothing out of the ordinary, so I try to shake the feeling.

“Come on Rogers, you’re starting to become paranoid!” I turn on some music before I head towards the shower. With my back towards the kitchen I feel a movement behind me.

My senses go from zero to one-hundred in a split second and I freeze, realizing there is someone with me in the room. I swiftly turn around and see a dark figure heading towards me. He doesn’t seem to be in an attack-mode but my body takes over none-the-less. I hurl myself at him, crushing him into the ground.

Without considering to look who is beneath me I immediately hit him in the face, knocking him unconscious with a single blow.

Looking back at this I know the person standing there wasn’t planning to attack me and wasn’t expecting me to fight, otherwise I would’ve never been able to knock him out. But the element of surprise in combination with my fear made me a lot tougher than he expected.

I take a moment to dial my senses back and try to relax. The danger is, for now, over. While unclenching my fist, _damn that was one hard punch_ , I finally look at my unwanted visitor.

My brain goes into overload when I realize who is currently underneath me. I immediately scramble off him and get to my feet. Only to stand for a couple of seconds and then come back down again next to him.

Slowly I take of the hoody covering his hair and undo the zipper revealing his throat. I turn his face towards me and look. I just keep staring without fully seeing him.

Seconds, minutes, days could’ve gone past and I wouldn’t have noticed. I just can’t stop staring at this familiar face.

“Sergeant James Barnes, security number 32557038…. Sergeant James Barnes, security number 32557038.” It’s barely a whisper, but it’s there. He is saying those precise words, over and over and over again.

“Buck, can you hear me?” My own words are barely more than a whisper. The room feels dead quiet while I hold my breath in patience. His breath hiccups before resuming its former whisper.

I sit back and try collect myself. What would one do when they found their best friend, who is presumed dead for over seventy years, in their living room?

Should I call someone? No, definitely not. This is my gut telling me, that if someone has been presumed dead for over seventy years but isn’t, they probably don’t want be found. But why is he here?

Maybe I should get some ice for his face, in case he wakes up? I check to see if I bruised him but he seems OK. Also, how come he still looks like he did seventy years ago?

Was the serum I got not one of a kind?

His whispering has stopped and I stare down in horror, afraid he is waking up. What am I going to say? What am I going to do?

-Hi Buck! Yeah I missed you terribly and just found out we were both madly in love with each other without the other knowing it and oh here you are so… where does that leave us now, huh?-

He’s started to snore. He is sleeping on the floor of my living room. Maybe I should carry him to the couch? And risk him waking up, no way.

“Bucky?” This time my whisper is a bit louder and his snore hiccups in response. “Buck, can you hear me? It’s Steve.”

“Steve?” My eyes grow big and I grab his hand but there is no response. His snore continues and I realize he is still sleeping.

“Buck, can you hear me? I missed you buddy, where’ve you been?”

He swallows several times before answering, face serene and his eyes closed. “I’ve been on missions, very high class and need to know only. I’m a secret agent now.”

“A secret agent? Who do you work for?”

“The government.” Yeah sure, and I wouldn’t know about it? That’s some serious high class stuff if he’s telling the truth.

“Which government?”

“The United States of America.” I feel as though the floor is disappearing beneath me. How can that be true?

“How long have you been a special agent, Buck?”

“I don’t know, my memory is too scattered. They keep deleting it, over and over and over and over…”

“But you remember me? You remember who I am?”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re Steve. I read about you in a museum, we were friends a long time ago.”

“We still are if you want to be.” It stays silent this time and when I look back down at him his face is turned the other way and I can hear him snoring again.

What did he mean by reading about me in the museum? Does that mean he doesn’t remember me at all? And how did he know the stuff about being a special agent if they keep deleting his memory? Does our government even do that?

I’m starting to think this is going to get me in massive problems if I can’t contain it. What am I going to do with him? Am I going to have to let him go again in order to preserve my current situation?

Can I even do that?

**Du bist und warst, und wirst nie wieder alles sein.**  
 **Ich bin und war und wird nie wieder glücklich sein.**  


**Lass mich, verlass mich, endlich.**   
**Ich hasse dich,**   
**Nach dir kommt nichts.**


	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter Nine_

After I’ve showered, I risk the chance of Bucky waking up and put him on the couch. At least he’ll be comfortable when he wakes up. I take a seat at the table and stare ahead. Hopefully Bucky will explain why he is here and if he’s got a plan of some kind, because I don’t. My mind keeps turning back towards his diary that was so obviously out of place when I got home from my trip.

Why not take the diary and run, if he can get in and out unnoticed anyway? Could it be he came back for me? He said he didn’t remember me like I remember him, so what’s the point in waiting me out?

Why was he here in the first place?

I faintly feel my stomach and realize it’s about time I have something to eat. Can’t live on an empty stomach you know. I try to set my thoughts aside and focus on the task at hand, making myself some dinner.

While I’m over-focusing on baking my omelet and completely ruining it in the process, Bucky has started to snore a tad bit harder than he did before.

“Can’t you keep it down? I’m trying to think here!” Without realizing it, I actually say it out loud and get a response from my living area.

“Like you don’t make any noise while you sleep!” I freeze when I hear his voice, so clearly Bucky. The intonation, the vibrancy. Everything reminding me of the good old days. Unexplained but familiar and good.

“You awake?” I ask and slowly turn towards the couch to see if he’s upright or not. I don’t see his body, so I take the omelet of the heat and make my way towards the couch. “Buck?”

Of course, he is still vast asleep. Even drooling a little with his head hung towards one side. “You never talked in your sleep when we were younger. How come you do now?” I don’t get an answer. Not even a slight response in his breathing. It’s like he’s all of a sudden become deaf in my presence.

If you’d ask me how my omelet tasted I wouldn’t be able to answer you truthfully. It’s like all my actions are on auto-pilot while my head is stuck in this spin of the same questions over and over and over again.

I was doing so well! Trying to accept his death and his love and his not-being-here. I was, as Deanna would phrase it, avoiding my problems. But quite efficiently since my work got the better end of that deal. I do think that Fury would agree with me on that one. The last report I delivered to him about our field-trip to Trier was about twenty times as long as I used to write them. Every miniscule detail written down, thanks to my superior memory of course.

Talking about Deanna, I’m going to see her tomorrow for our weekly appointment. Or am I? God, another one of those questions! This would all be so much easier if he would just be awake and talk to me about stuff.

Yeah, just like he did before the war? I can’t expect him to, all of a sudden, start gushing about everything that’s been happening to him. Next to the fact that apparently his memory has been tempered with, he doesn’t know that I read his diary. Who knows if he even knows what he wrote in his diary?

What does he know?

 

_To be able to truly speak your mind to someone. To open up completely and let them see you for who you really are, is something very difficult. We build up walls around us, preserving ourselves from within, without realizing that by not letting anyone in we cannot grow. We stay the way we are, locked up in a cage build by our own strength. Feeling strong and confident because we are not letting anyone in, we are not revealing ourselves to the world._

_What can the world do to us? Are we really so afraid of rejection that we choose to remain solitude for the rest of our lives? Never having the experience of someone else’s thoughts crossing through our mind, giving us new perspectives. Never realizing that where two minds become one, there are also two minds to bare the weight of rejections._

_When we let someone in, our lives become enriched with so much beauty. For only one in a cage is solitude but two makes a pair. And as a pair you can take on the world, for now there are two minds working as one. Two minds that complement each other, help one another. Love is but merely a consequence of setting yourself open to other people._

_When you open your heart and mind to others, they will let you in as well. And having shared a mind with someone you will grow to know and love that someone. And everyone who is open to you will be open to loving you, just as you will love them._

Deanna would be proud to know I’ve actually looked up some of her studies on human behavior. I’m trying to keep myself busy, my mind occupied with other stuff in order to avoid the one laying on my couch. It’s so difficult to anticipate how he is going to wake up, which Bucky will I meet?

I remember at the end of the war, just before Bucky fell, we weren’t on the best of terms. Things I’ve been trying to put behind me have been resurfacing in my memory. He was keeping things from me and I let them happen. He was so unlike the Bucky from back home that I didn’t know how to cope with him. Just like I don’t know who I’m going to find when he wakes up.

You always bury your bad memories and only retain the good, this much I know. I might even find answers to questions I had back then in his diary, if only I still knew them. My concerns, Bucky’s lies and my avoidance are stuff I buried way deep when he fell. You could say they fell down with him, my grief only leaving space for our happy memories from back home.

I wished for him to return, but I wished for a Bucky that wasn’t there when I joined the war. Back then I thought he had left him back home in Brooklyn, but from what I gather from his diary he left him in the Nazi camp. Could that be why he hasn’t aged at all? Did they conduct similar experiments on him as they did on me?

I rise to get his diary and look it up when I hear movement from the couch. He has risen and is rubbing his eyes. My breath freezes and I feel my heart pounding in my chest, I’m actually nervous for what he is going to say.

He yawns loudly and takes a slow look around the room. When he spots me, his face undergoes a series of emotions to settle on a distressed look.

“Was I out for a long time?”

… seriously? You wake up in the apartment you broke into to be stared at by your oldest friend who you presumably don’t remember and the first thing you ask is this?

“Well, you’ve been a sleep since late in the morning so that depends on what your take on a long time is.” My answer sounds cold to my ears. I can feel my body becoming rigid and the tension building inside me. I’m all of a sudden so angry! “What are you doing here anyway?”

It’s not fair towards Bucky but I’m having a hard time controlling my anger. To relieve some of the pressure I start pacing.

“…I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” It took quite a while for him to respond to my question. I stop pacing to look straight at him. His face is a jumble, with confusion written all over it.

“Do you have any memory regarding how you got this address?” I ask him.

“It was a mission… This apartment…. I needed to make a preliminary investigation to get to know this place, quickest way in and out, that sort of thing. But something stopped me dead in my tracks and now I can’t go back.”

“You’re saying you’ve been here before?” I ask him.

“Yes, I have.” My mystery visitor at last.

“You’ve read your diary while you were here.” I grab it and give it to him. He lets it rest in his hands, just staring at it.

“Is this yours?”

“No, it’s yours. You wrote it a long time ago.”

“I don’t remember.” Well, no surprise there. I take a moment to collect my thoughts, what am I going to do now? If he is going to stay this numb, I doubt I’ll get any straight answer out of him. A different tactic maybe?

“I’m going to make myself some coffee, do you want anything?”

His face is truly amazing, so many things I can still read of it. Right now, he’s obviously dumbstruck by the fact that I offered him something. As if he’s never received such a gesture before.

“Could I maybe get some tea?”

“Sure thing, I’ll be in the kitchen for a little bit. You’re not going to bolt on me?”

“No, I’d like to stay here.” Well, you could’ve asked while you were at it. Don’t remember ever hanging up signs: Old buddies who lost their minds welcome anytime!

I take a deep breath. Get a grip Rogers, aren’t you happy Bucky’s back?

Well, to be quite honest…. I’m not really sure there is a Bucky left in this person sharing his good looks.

 

“How do you call yourself?” My question surprises him as he looks up from his teacup. He’s been staring at it for the last 15 minutes, casually sipping, not saying a word.

“I remember being called sergeant Barnes. But the name sounds hollow, like I don’t know who that person really is.”

“I used to know you as Bucky. But I doubt you’re anything like the man I used to know.” Well at least I got that off my chest. It feels like a heavy weight has been lifted, saying what I think about him. He might look like him, but the person talking to me doesn’t feel like Bucky at all.

“He’s in here somewhere.” The corner of his mouth lifts a little bit, making a half smile. “The name stirs stuff in my brain. I guess the same way the diary made me forget my objective and drop everything…. I’ve never done anything other than my missions, this is all I can remember.”

“Have you been brainwashed?”

“I have no idea, but I would assume so. My memory only goes back to when I woke up for my last four missions. Before that there is nothing, until this…. Here….”

“Do you have any recollection about who I am? Other than your objective?” Silence fills the room while Bucky ponders over my question. He looks so small in comparison to my memory, like he is shrinking into the couch.

“I know you are Steve and that you are Captain America.”

“Yes, but do you remember anything you didn’t read about in a museum?’

He looks at me disturbingly, almost angry. “I just told you my memory only dates back to the last couple of months. How am I supposed to remember stuff that happened almost seventy years ago?” The fire with which he spits at me actually make me recline in my seat. This is thus far the most honest and open reaction I got from him.

“You’ve got to give me something here! You broke into my apartment and here I am letting you drink my tea and sleep on my couch while I don’t have the slightest clue about who you are. Only that you resemble an old mate of mine!”

“Well that makes two of us, because I don’t know who I am either!” He spits back.

“And what would you like me to do about that, huh?” By now we are shouting at each other from across the room. It’s a good thing he hasn’t risen from the couch or I would’ve hit him.

“I thought you, or the diary, or something else might stir my memories. Make me remember who I was or who I’m supposed to be! How am I supposed to know what to do when you wake up from something like what I’ve been through? I have no identity! I doubt I even had a mind of my own for the past years, god knows how long I’ve been like this!”

The silence that follows is deafening. I just don’t know how to react anymore. His speech was so honest and heartbreaking, at least I woke up with my memory intact. I can’t imagine what he’s going through at this point, but apparently, he wants my help with it.

“So, although you don’t really know me…. You would like my help figuring out who you are now? Or used to be anyway?” I don’t dare to look at him while I say this. This might be my only chance to get Bucky back. Could he maybe still be in there somewhere?

“I would like that very much.”


	11. Chapter 11

_Chapter Ten_

“What would one do when they found out their old mate isn’t dead but actually very much alive?”

“Alive and well?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say well… He doesn’t remember who he is and would like my help figuring that out. How would one go about their business with these things?” I’ve suggested to Deanna that I would like to start writing a book, to try and alleviate some of the problems I still have regarding Bucky.

Deanna, always a faithful participant of one’s own exploration, loves the idea and immediately wants to know what my initial thoughts for the book are. I wonder if she sees through me, but at this point I wouldn’t really mind. The story is too bizarre to be real so I doubt she would believe me, even if I’d told her it is the truth.

“I guess you should start with the things he does remember and build up from there.” She offers.

“So, I need to figure out what my basis of knowledge is before trying to expand it?”

“Precisely!” She takes her time to write some stuff down before turning her attention back to me.

“Do you mind if we go over the report of your last mission?”

“You read my mission-report?” It seems like ages ago that I was away with Rumlow, yet it’s only been a couple of days. Ever since Bucky arrived, I feel like my days are moving simultaneously fast and slow. It doesn’t help that I skipped my entire night’s sleep to keep him occupied with relearning the basics. Getting him dressed in a decent outfit for one.  

“I sure did. Do you remember what you wrote?” Her question surprises me.

“Of course, I remember. I wrote a detailed report about our mission, that’s what you’re supposed to write?”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly a detailed report. You wrote an entire essay on how beautiful the city of Trier is. Nothing about any valuable information regarding the reason you went there.”

“That’s because regarding the mission there wasn’t much to report. We didn’t spot anything out of the ordinary, which gave me enough time to enjoy the magnificent architecture of the city.”

She takes a moment before she replies, adding some strength to her next sentence. “I think it’s a good thing you came up with the idea of writing a book, if you hadn’t brought it up yourself, I would’ve suggested it today.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because obviously your mind is occupied with a lot of other stuff besides work. Can you evaluate why the mission-report doesn’t meet the requirements it’s supposed to?”

I take a moment to repeat the question in my head, she wants me to point out the things that were wrong with my report? “Why isn’t Fury evaluating this with me?”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Maybe because I don’t have an answer! I wrote twenty-something pages about a one-day mission and you’re telling me it doesn’t meet the requirements? How long do they want it to be?”

“Do you realize what you just did?” I look up in confusion, what did I just do?

“No…?”

“You are asking your counselor questions you shouldn’t be having if you are on active duty.”

I keep silent in response. She’s telling me I’m not ready for duty because I forgot the basics, like writing a report.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I remember that back in the old days it would be as short as possible. No time to waste, keep those reports brief and only write essentials. I just never wasted time writing them, much rather be in the field fighting. And anyway, this report really came out of nowhere, once I started writing it, the words just kept on coming like a waterfall pouring out of my fingers.

“So why are you reprimanding me for it?” I ask.

“Fury is putting you back on non-active duty until further notice. I, or actually your report, convinced him you’re not quite ready to get back into battle.”

“Well that suits you both just fine, doesn’t it? Ever considered I might chew my own head off before you guys decide I’m ready for battle again?” How dare they even do such a thing without considering how I feel? “How do you suppose I’m going to keep all this anger down when I don’t even get to do what I was trained for?”

“We’re not suspending your training Steve! You got clearance from me to go on one, just one, mission. Fury assured me you were never to be anywhere near any violence because I haven’t cleared you for that yet. The anger you feel right now needs to be solved here, in this room. On your own terms and not on a battlefield.”

I take a moment to process this. I thought I was cleared for duty, but apparently, I never really was. It was all just a test to see how I would react to things. Magnificent players, that’s what they are. “Can I ever really take you for what you are? Or is this here a scam too?”

Her eyes narrow and although she doesn’t show it, I can feel I hit a nerve. “The conversations you have with me are all real. What happens here is merely a part of the growth you need to undergo to become whole again. And until that day comes, we will always come back here.”

 

The moment I step outside the building I call Sam.

“Hey man, could I bother you to have a drink with me?”

“You never bother me. What time were you thinking?”

“Ehh, how about now?”

“Sure thing, lets meet downtown.” We settle on a coffeeshop near the park. Sam’s already there when I arrive.

“So, what’s up?” He greets me when I join him with my coffee.

“Nothing really. Just felt like having a talk with someone. I just came out of a counseling-session and actually feel like talking to someone else about it.”

“Really?!” Sam obviously seems surprised. “I usually feel really drained after spending an hour with my counselor. Afterwards I just let go.”

“Seriously? Don’t you have stuff to overthink, give it all a place and so on?” I ask.

“I guess? But honestly the only time I talk and think about said stuff is during my counseling. I open up, think about everything and try to respond as honest as possible. And afterwards I let it all go. Like the box in my mind has opened for an hour or so and after that it closes again. My coping mechanism.”

“I can’t shut down. It is like the doors that she opens I can’t shut when I leave. It just keeps bothering me until the next time I sit down with her.”

“But what made you seek my help this time?” He asks.

“Well, apparently the Op I went on the other day was a test. And after assessing my report they decided that I’m not yet ready to go on active duty. I didn’t know it was a test and I certainly wasn’t expecting to be told that I won’t be going on any missions anytime soon.”

 “Now that’s just nasty!” I love Sam’s response to my statement. It doesn’t exactly describe what I’m feeling but it’s pretty close.

“It just feels like everything isn’t real or something. You start to believe in small things, thinking you’ve got your life back on track only to be reminded it’s not in your own hands anymore. Like I’m property of the United States of America now.”

“You just need to get out more and start building a life outside of the job. You’ve been away for a long time and you need to build yourself a new home and new life. We could go out if you like that sort of things? Meeting new people is a good way of starting fresh.” I never really looked at it from that perspective, also because I wasn’t on my own.

“Thanks for the offer, I might take you up on that one.”

“You just let me know whenever you feel like it and we’ll go out.”

 

When I get back home, I find Bucky buried deep in his diary.

“You really think I wrote all this stuff?” he asks me. Like I remember actually seeing him write it? I didn’t even know it existed until they gave it to me not so long ago.

“You tell me! I just know that it is definitely your handwriting and the stuff you talk about are things that actually happened. I assumed it is in fact your diary, don’t you remember writing any of it?”

“Bits and pieces. There are a lot of things I don’t remember about this Bucky. I do think it’s helping to read about him, giving me more things to cling to.”

“I’ve been to my counselor this morning, asked her what we could do to help build your memory.”

“You told me about her?!” He’s up on his feet in no time, racing towards the window and frantically looking for anything out of the ordinary.

“You really think so little of me?” He looks back at me and shrugs his shoulders.

“I don’t know.” He responds indifferently.

“Well, to sooth your worries, I didn’t mention you to her. I only asked what one could do if they were experiencing memory-loss.” This time he doesn’t respond but sits back down at the table.

“She recommends,” I resume my monologue. “That we make a base of the knowledge you have at this point and build up from there. So, it’s actually pretty bad for you to be reading your diary already, since we don’t know what stuff you already know from your own memory.”

“But I don’t remember anything, so we don’t have any base.”

“That can’t be true. We all know something, even if it’s only a little bit. It doesn’t have to be from back in the day, anything is valuable information.” I reply.

“So, the stuff about me being a special operative for the USA is valuable information?”

“Of course! It would help if we knew who you worked for, maybe we could ask them to help with your memory-loss?”

“We can’t do that Steve.” His tone has become very serious and his face has turned dark which actually scares me a little bit.

“Why not?”

“Because they were the ones deleting it in the first place.” The silence that follows speaks volumes. I don’t know how to respond so I decide to keep quiet until Bucky feels there is more to say.

A few minutes pass before he speaks again. “I just can’t go back there.” There is a certain definiteness in his words. Usually when he speaks, I can feel he is uncertain about his words but with this he isn’t.

“We’ll figure it out together if you want.” He just nods in response indicating he is done having this conversation. I offer to make us something to eat but he declines. “I’m not really hungry.”

 

The next day, somewhere in the afternoon I get a call from Sam.

“Listen Steve, I don’t know if it’s safe to talk right now so could you meet me at the usual spot?”

“You want to go for a jog or something?” I reply with a lot of question marks. Sam doesn’t sound like his usual self at all.

“Something like that, how soon can you be there?”

“Give me ten minutes and you’ll see me there.” I decide to not change and just leave immediately.

“A friend of mine just called to meet up in town. You’ll be fine on your own, right?”

“Sure, I’ll see you in a bit.” I hesitate a moment before deciding just to smile and leave. The more he sounds like Bucky the more I crave to touch him, even if it’s just a pat on the back.

Bucky and I were never shy of physical contact. Now I’m afraid to even look him in the eye, scared that he’ll give me one of his cold looks that resemble nothing of the Bucky I used to know.

Sam’s already waiting when I approach him.

“What did you want to talk about? You sounded worried over the phone.”

“I am worried, come walk with me. We need to keep moving, I’m not sure I was followed when I left SHIELD.”

“Left SHIELD? What were you doing there?”

“They rang me and asked If I could come over this morning.” He pauses to glance over his shoulder. “They had some very strange questions about you, Steve.”

“About me?” I actually want to freeze and look at him but Sam ushers me to move along.

“We’ve got to keep moving Steve, come on!” I pick up the pace so that we’re now steadily walking along the outskirts of the park. “Listen, they asked if I talked to you personally. Started asking questions about your old mate, sergeant Barnes. If you ever mention him, talk about him in present times like he is still with you.”

My head is starting to spin backwards while I process this. Did I talk about Bucky in the present? He hasn’t been with me for that long and I remember being very on my guard talking about him towards Deanna. I am certain I didn’t mention him to anyone since he arrived at my apartment!

Right?

Sam continues after glancing at me to see if I am still listening. “I told them you never talked about him, something about it still hurting. Because it’s only been a few months in your perspective since he died, right?”

“Coming close to a year, yeah.”

“That’s what I thought, so I didn’t give them much else. They kept on asking though, what you do in your spare time and if you ever discuss work with me. I started to get pretty uncomfortable so I stopped giving straight answers, just avoiding the questions mostly. I guess they noticed because they cut the interrogation short.”

“Interrogation?”

“Yeah, well they said they just wanted to talk but it felt like an interrogation to me!”

“But why the apprehension now?”

“Because when I left, I noticed that the room wasn’t what it ought to be. The walls were a lot thicker than usual and they had surveillance camera’s discreetly put up everywhere I looked.”

“It’s SHIELD, Sam. They put up camera’s in your bedroom if they could. I had to strip my apartment too before I moved in. Like their sole purpose is to monitor you.”

“So, it’s not in the slightest bit weird they bugged me when I left the building?” He holds out his hand to show a little bug, crushed to pieces.

“Well, I’ll admit that is a bit weird. Just like them questioning you about my affairs is very weird.”

“Listen Steve, I don’t know what is going on but SHIELD is suspecting something. Whatever you’ve got going on, you either stop it or you get the hell out of here. Because they are going to find out sooner rather than later.” Although his tone is serious and giving me the shivers, I try to stay positive.

“They’re not going to find anything, I’ve got nothing to hide!”

“You sure about that?” His hand is squeezing my arm and his eyes are piercing. “Because they’re not going to stop at my dismissal until they find what they are looking for.”

My thoughts travel back towards Bucky hiding in my apartment and the doubt starts to spread. How could they know? Is SHIELD in on this government project he was working for? And how far will they go to get him back?

Sam notices my change in posture and reacts immediately. “You go home and fix this or just leave. If you want my help, you’re going to need to get a burner-phone because they’ll be tapping yours. And mine for that matter, but I’ll find a way to fix that.”

I look at him, where am I going to go? “You’ve got your phone on you?” He asks.

“Yeah, of course I do.” I reply.

“Right, listen to me carefully. I’m going to snatch it from you without you noticing, or at least pretend you don’t notice it. You go home and do whatever you have to do and I’ll get rid of your phone. They will be tracking your movements through it, so if I take it, we’ll at least send them on a goose chase.”

“Ok, but what am I going to do? How do I leave?” I ask.

“Just get on the first bus you find and drive as far away as possible. If you can, go completely of the grid. It’s the only way to give yourself time to solve whatever it is you’re dealing with. If you don’t want SHIELD to fix it for you, that is.”

“How can I thank you for this?” This is more then I could ever ask of Sam. Yet he is doing it for me freely.

“Just stay safe and I will see you again when you’ve solved everything?” I want to hug him but somehow can’t. “See you next time, Steve!” He leaves as though nothing of our conversation ever happened. I go on my way back home, trying very hard not to run as fast as possible but keeping my pace level and slow. No need to draw attention, Rogers.


	12. Epilogue

_Epilogue_

By the time I get home my head is racing with the possibilities of what we should do. Do we leave on foot, do we get a car and just drive? The bus is of course more anonymous but is also rigged with cameras that SHIELD will no doubt have control over.

“Buck?” I enter the living room and find him asleep on the couch. “Bucky, you need to wake up! We need to go, now!”

“What?” He opens one eye slightly and tries to turn over, facing away from me. “Lemme sleep, I wanna sleep.” His voice is heavy and endearing and so not what I want to hear right now.

“Come on! Time to get on your feet soldier, the time has come to go!”

“Now what the hell are you rambling on about?” A sleepy head appears above the backseat of the couch looking very confused.

“You’ve been made, and so have I! We’ve got to go before they find us!” Well, that seems to have the right effect. He is up in no time, shuffling behind me while I grab some stuff to take along.

“You can’t carry along an entire suitcase, Steve. Just take some money and let’s go, we’ll provide ourselves with the necessary stuff as we go along.” He sounds surprisingly awake all of a sudden.

“Right, you’re absolutely right.” I grab my coat and manage to tuck his diary in it before putting it on. No way I’m leaving that behind for them to have. My stash of savings also finds its way into my pocket and we are ready to go.

I freeze in front of the door and turn around to see him smiling at me. “I’ve got some hats in the closet, lets both put one on. At least pretend we’re trying to hide or something.”

“Good thinking Rogers.”

 

While we’re leaving the building behind us, I can see several SHIELD operatives coming up to the building from across the street. I speed up my pace and take a sharp turn to the right, seeing a bus stop just in front of us.

“Come on!” I hiss and we catch the bus just before it leaves. We sit behind each other and I tap his shoulder after three stops to indicate we’ll be getting off the next stop.

“Got any idea where you want to go?” He asks me when we get off.

“Not yet. I don’t really have a go-to spot to avoid our government.”

“Let’s just take a bus out of town and see from there.” I nod in response. It’s going to be a hard time but at least I’m with Bucky, and that’s all that really matters.

**Immerhin, nach ihm kommt nichts.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Hope you guys enjoyed reading this! Well, if you've gotten to this point I suspect it wasn't half-ass bad...  
> This was a labor of love to write, but it also took me WAY too long to finish.  
> So although I would love to write them another story, I don't think I have it in me to do it any justice.  
> So enjoy it for it was and by all means, picture our boys living happily ever after on a farm somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Maybe a dog? Most certainly a cat. And lots of loving <3
> 
> … Allthough I do have some entries on Bucky's Journal left, so maybe someday…. ;)


End file.
